Alistair the Mage
by Anime-StarWars-fan-zach
Summary: Alistair Theirin was born to King Maric of Fereldan, and the Grey Warden Fiona. Maric was human, but Fiona herself was an Elf and a Mage. Alistair did not inherit the ears of his mother, thankfully; but what if she had passed her magic down to him? What if Alistair had been born as one of the Magi? What sort of life might he live, then?
1. A New Journey to a New Life

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Prologue: A New Journey to a New Life**

Alistair Theirin was ten years old when his life changed forever.

The day started innocently enough; Alistair was going through his usual routine of helping out in the stables, when the stable master came in. He announced to the boy that Arl Eamon was here to see him, much to Alistair's delight.

The deviation from his daily schedule was odd, and perhaps worrisome, but Alistair didn't give it much thought; he always loved it when Eamon or Teagan visited, especially since their visits were so incredibly rare. The young boy immediately set out from the stables and, upon seeing Eamon in the distance, raced out toward him.

As he grew closer with each passing step, though, he could make out several figures behind the Arl. Alistair came to a complete stop when he discovered who those figures were: Templars. A total of four of them, to be precise.

Something was very, very wrong here, and Alistair felt a sense of dread filling him.

"I am afraid it is time to leave, Alistair." Eamon began, and Alistair felt his heart shatter.

"W-Why?" The immediate response came, as the boy stared uncomprehendingly at the imposing Templars. They stared back, their cold eyes bringing no relief to him.

"I am afraid you simply can't stay here any longer, Alistair." Eamon began with a small, sad smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It breaks my heart to see you go, but it is unavoidable. You are simply getting too old to live at the stables, and I can't exactly take you in as my own; Isolde is with child, now, and I cannot raise two boys at once. However, I have made suitable arrangements with the Chantry. You are going to be taken by these nice Templars to a place where you will be trained to become a Templar yourself, Alistair." Eamon stated, his voice laden with sympathy.

"B-But, Arl Eamon! I-I can e-earn my keep! Just...give me a job somewhere else other than the stables! I'll do whatever you want! Just...just let me stay! Please, I don't want to leave Redcliffe!" Tears welled in Alistair's eyes, and he give a pleading look to his provider. Eamon, however, merely sighed and shook his head.

"There is no avoiding it, Alistair. You must leave, and for that, I am truly sorry. However, you will live a much better life now, with the Templars. Trust me." Eamon explained to Alistair in a grandfatherly tone, and he held a hand out to the boy.

Alistair simply stared at Eamon in reply, and took a step back. One of the Templars stepped toward him, then, and a surge of panic swept over the child.

"N-No! I don't want to go! I-I won't go!" Alistair cried out, turning to run. But the Templar was already upon him, and grabbed his arm in an iron-like grip. The young child struggled to get out of his grasp, but the Templar did not let go, and started dragging him back toward Eamon and his fellows.

"It is the only way, Alistair. I am sorry." Arl Eamon repeated with a shake of his head, even as Alistair continued to kick and scream at the impassive Templar.

"No!" Alistair continued to shout, a mounting desperation welling within him as he searched in vain for a way to escape this growing nightmare.

"_I don't want to leave Redcliffe!" _Alistair thought desperately, as he continued his struggle.

"_I don't want to leave Eamon and Teagan! They are the only family I know, the only people who really care about me. I _need _to stay here, to stay at my home. I can't go away with those scary Templars! I can't!"_

Alistair struggled again and again, but it was all for naught; the Templar was simply too strong. As he was dragged back to Eamon and the other Templars, Alistair gave one last attempt to beseech the Arl.

"I don't want to go! I don't want to go, Eamon! Please! Please let me stay! I can't go! I...I...I don't want to... _go!"_

With that shout, time seemed to slow into a crawl, and a raw, untapped energy began to fill Alistair's very being. The energy was comforting, and reassured him, almost as if it had been with Alistair throughout his entire life. So, without even thinking, the boy curled his free hand into a fist and sent it sailing toward the Templar that had him captive.

And from that flying hand, a large and powerful Fist of Earth sprung into existence, crashing into the Templar holding his arm. Caught off-guard, the armored behemoth was sent flying, and tumbled away from Alistair.

Dead silence reigned in the aftermath, as the injured Templar groaned and lay still upon the ground.

Using that time to recover, Alistair took a few ragged breaths, and felt elated at beating his captor. And then, what had truly transpired caught up with him. Alistair blinked, a new kind of dread welling inside him, and he looked at his hand in shock.

To Alistair's credit, the uninjured Templars and Arl Eamon were equally surprised by the sudden display of magic. Eamon himself stared openly at Alistair, his mouth opening and closing in rapid succession.

However, the Templars quickly recovered, and moved to act before the situation could deteriorate any further. One of the Templars lashed out with a fist, and unleashed a Holy Smite.

A wave of nausea and overwhelming pain enveloped the astonished Alistair, and he fell to his knees, screaming as his magic was ripped from him.

Unable to take the agony, Alistair rapidly began to lose consciousness; the boots of a marching Templar were the last things he saw before darkness overtook him.


	2. Welcome to the Circle of Magi

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 1: Welcome to the Circle of Magi**

The world slowly came back into focus for Alistair, as the boy regained consciousness. The first thing he was aware of was that he was resting on something...soft.

"_Huh. Never knew hay could be this soft,"_ Alistair wondered for a brief moment. Indeed, this felt like the most comfortable hay he had slept on yet. Had the stable-master done something to the hay to make it this...nice and soft and warm?

"_I ought to thank him," _Alistair decided, and opened his eyes.

However, it was not the sights, sounds, and smells of a stable that greeted him; no, it was something far different, much more...alien.

First, Alistair noticed just how clear and well it smelled; a fine relief from the stench of horses and their byproducts. Next, he did not hear the chatter of those who worked in the stables, or the snorts of the horses; no, this place was much more...quiet, more serene than he was used to. And finally, Alistair saw an older woman right next to him, sitting in a chair.

Huh. Funny that she was the last thing he noticed. But then again, it was very much welcome not to wake up to the smell of manure.

"Finally awake, I see."

The old woman spoke, and kindly smiled at him. Alistair blinked and stared at her, wondering just who she was and...and where he was, for that matter. This obviously wasn't the stables. Where...where was he?

"H-Huh? What...?" Alistair looked around, confusion and a touch of fear growing within him. Just where was he, now, and how had he gotten here? Where were the stables? Where was his home?

"I am sure you must be frightened and confused by all this, dear, but I am going to help you through this." The older woman suddenly stated, bringing Alistair's attention back to her. He gazed at her cautiously, but her sincere tone and pleasant smile brought some measure of peace to him.

"My name is Wynne. What is yours?" She asked.

"Oh, um, my name is Alistair. Um...where...am I, Wynne?" The young boy asked, setting up from the...the bed. Yes, that was it. He wasn't sleeping on a pile of hay; it was a bed. Well. That wasn't unwelcome either, he supposed. Wherever he was, at least it gave him a bed to rest on; and it smelled much nicer than the stables, too.

"Ah, you must not remember. Hm. Tell me, Alistair, what is the last thing you recall doing?" Wynne inquired gently, laying a hand on his own, and intertwining their fingers. Alistair blushed a little, unused to such affection, but he tried to answer her question.

"The last thing I..."

Alistair clamped his mouth shut, suddenly, and the memories flooded back into his conscious mind.

Arl Eamon had visited, but some scary Templars had been with him. Eamon had said that the Templars were there to take him away. He hadn't wanted to go, but Eamon had been insistent. Then one of the Templars grabbed him, and...

"I...I knocked down a Templar using...magic?" Alistair voiced aloud to himself, his mind trying to process the perplexing jumble of images his foggy memories were now calling up.

"Did you, now?" Wynne looked over Alistair, a bemused smirk gracing her features. "Well, I imagine you must have been very frightened of the Templar to do that. Don't worry, though. You are safe here."

"I used...magic?" Alistair repeated, unable to believe his own memories. That meant he was a...a...

"Yes, Alistair: you are a Mage." Wynne confirmed, gently squeezing his hand.

Alistair nodded numbly at her, his mind still stunned at that revelation. He was a _Mage?! _How...how was that even possible? He had never even used magic before! At least, not until that very moment. Maker, what in the world was going on...

"I know you must be frightened by your new powers, Alistair. I was myself, when I was your age. But you are in a safe place now. A place where you will be trained to hone your abilities, and use them to serve your fellow man. This is a lot to take in, I know, but I'm here to answer any questions you have." Wynne gave another nice and warm smile, and Alistair felt his growing fear and panic smothered slightly.

"I...where am I?" Alistair said yet again, not sure just what else he could or should ask.

"The Fereldan Circle of Magi, of course. Welcome to your new home, Alistair."

* * *

After a long and lengthy discussion with Wynne—in which Alistair was given a brief overview of his new powers and responsibilities and the new life he'd live at the Circle—Alistair was shown to his new living quarters, Wynne talking all the while as they walked.

"The Apprentice Quarters is a large room filled to the brim with bunk beds for the Apprentices to sleep and live in. Each Apprentice is given a chest that they themselves own for the remainder of their years there. You may choose to fill the chests with whatever you desire, be it trinkets or family heirlooms or what have you. This setup does not offer much privacy, I'll grant you, but I am hopeful that Irving's talks with the Knight-Commander to renovate the room to offer more privacy for the Apprentices will become fruitful.

"You have already been assigned a bunk, Alistair, so you have no need to worry about choosing one yourself. If you have any questions or concerns, you can come find me and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. And if you cannot find me, I am sure that an older Apprentice or an Enchanter or even a Templar could easily answer any of your inquiries. It is getting near the time for lights out, so you won't have much to do for the rest of the night. However, you will be attending beginner's lessons to learn up on magical theory, the basic magical spells, and many other important things, starting tomorrow.

"Breakfast is at eight, and Enchanters who teach the younger Apprentices will arrive at the dormitory at nine thirty, so make sure to be ready by then. The chests given to the Apprentices can also be used to store your robes, and yes, you must wear robes, Alistair. They are mandatory. I have already taken the liberty to have you assigned some. They might be somewhat tall on you, but I am sure you will grow into them. Oh, and if at any time you get lost, a Templar or another Mage can easily give you directions to where you need to go."

Wynne finished her speech as they arrived at the dormitory. Alistair stared at her, slack-jawed, as he tried to remember even a tenth of what she had just told him. Wynne sighed and knelt down, bringing a hand onto his shoulder.

"I know this is a lot to take in and remember, Alistair. I know it must also be so very frightening. But trust me when I say this: it will get better. It will take you some time to adjust, but one day I hope you will come to see the Circle as a wonderful new home." Wynne gave him a bright smile, and kissed Alistair on the cheek. The young boy blushed and looked down at his feet, though a small smile flashed across his cheeks.

"Um, thanks, Wynne. You've, um, been a lot of help today. Thanks." Alistair said at length. The elderly Mage chuckled, and ruffled his hair, standing up straight.

"You are quite welcome, young man. I was glad to help you. Now, follow me. I'll show you your new room."

Wynne reached down to grab Alistair's hand, and led him into the dorm. Just as she said, it was a large room filled to a near-bursting point with bunk-beds as far as the eye could see. And along with the bunk-beds, the dorm was bustling with Mages, Human and Elven, all of them ranging from late childhood to young adulthood. Alistair stared at all the new people, taken aback at seeing so many people at once, but Wynne kept leading him along, and soon the majority of the Apprentices escaped his sight. Wynne finally came to a stop at a bunk-bed at the corner of the room. It was not all that different from the others, aside from the fact someone was already laying down on the top bunk.

"Here we are. Anders, come on down, please."

The boy, perhaps a few years older than Alistair himself, looked over at Wynne, and shrugged. He rose up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, before dropping himself down. He stretched and spoke, looking over at Alistair as a keen look of interest appeared on his face.

"Is this my new bunk-mate?"

"Yes, Anders." Wynne nodded and pushed Alistair forward. The young child gulped a little, and felt the urge to hide behind Wynne's legs, but fought it. The other boys at the stables always teased him when he got scared or nervous; he certainly didn't want to give his new bunk-mate an opportunity to do the same.

"Anders, this is Alistair. He just arrived at the Circle earlier this evening. Alistair, this is Anders. Anders here is a few years older than you, but he's an Apprentice as well."

Anders gave a quick nod, and held out his hand. A grin split wide across his face.

"Nice to meet you, Alistair! I'm glad I finally got a new bunk-mate; sure did miss the company."

Alistair stared at Anders, shocked at the sudden and swift display of friendship. But eager to make a good impression, he snapped out of it and shook Anders' hand. "Um, hi. Nice to meet you too, Anders. I, um, look forward to, um...bunking with you."

Wynne gave an approving nod at the both of them, reaching over to ruffle Alistair's hair one last time. "I think you two will get along just fine! I shall take my leave, then. Goodnight Alistair, Anders. Have pleasant dreams."

Wynne gave them both one last smile, and swiftly departed. Anders watched her go before turning back to Alistair.

"So, I get the top bunk. Mind that?"

"Um, no. Not really." Alistair replied with a blink. He honestly didn't care which part of a bunk-bed he slept on. Then again, though, he had never really slept on a bunk-bed before...

"Good! I like you already, Alistair." Anders gave a cheeky grin, and reached out to grab Alistair's hand. "Come on, then! We shall have some time before the Templars enforce our curfew. Let me introduce you to some friends of mine!"

Alistair stared at Anders, shocked once again, but nodded. The older boy immediately dragged him off, and began to introduce him to a few other Apprentices, old and young. The older female Apprentices seemed especially friendly to him, hugging him and telling him just how cute he was, much to Alistair's own embarrassment.

He wasn't the only new Apprentice, Alistair found out. Three others had arrived earlier in the day: two Humans, a girl and a boy, and one Elf, a girl. Anders introduced Alistair to them, and said they'd likely be given to the same Enchanter for their training. Though Alistair didn't really pay attention to that part; he just struggled to remember all the new names and faces of his fellow Apprentices.

Finally, the night dawned, and the Apprentices were called to bed. Anders stayed up for some time, eagerly whispering to Alistair from his bunk. Alistair did not say much in reply, but Anders didn't seem to mind. And soon enough, Anders drifted off to sleep, dreaming in the Fade for the rest of the night.

Alistair tried to sleep himself, but it was hard. All that had happened today kept haunting his thoughts.

Oh Maker, this still felt so..._surreal _to him. To find out he was a Mage, and had been taken to the Circle of Magi...it was all so..._weird_ and _unbelievable_. Alistair still expected to wake up in the stables, and find out that this was all just some strange dream, and that he'd continue his live uninterrupted...

But no; this wasn't a dream. This was his new life, his new home. And whether he liked it or not, he was here to stay.


	3. Meeting New Friends, Learning New Tricks

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 2: Meeting New Friends and Learning New Tricks**

The food at the Circle wasn't too bad, Alistair found out. Or at least the food for breakfast wasn't that bad. It was quite good, really. Best thing he had eaten in ages. Much better than some of the food the stable-master dolled out. So that was another bonus at being here, now.

"You won't be overwhelmed with too much for your first few weeks, Alistair." Anders advised over breakfast, as he swallowed a bite from a loaf of buttered bread. "They'll start you slow and steady. Teach you some very basic spells to cast, a very general and vague idea of magical theory, and all that stuff. They'll teach you how to write and read, too, if you don't know that already."

"We...learn how to read and write?" Alistair blinked at that, and gave Anders a quizzical look. The boy nodded vigorously, as he took a drink from a goblet of water. He wiped his lips and said,

"Oh yes. When they want to be, Enchanters can be very _evil _teachers. You have to know how to write and read, because they always want to assign you loads and loads written work and reading material. And it. Is. _Horrible._ Don't even get me _started_ on the essays that Enchanter Torrin assigns me!

"_'Anders, write me a five parchment essay about the correlation between Dragons and Blood Mages! Anders, write me fifteen parchments about Healing magic and its longterm effects on the body!' _Ugh, it's all so bloody annoying! Written work is just about the most terrifying and horrible thing you'll come across in the Circle. Even becoming an Abomination isn't as bad as having to write three twenty parchment essays in one night."

Alistair stared at Anders, mouth hung open as he finally finished his tirade. Seeing his expression, Anders chuckled and gave his younger companion a reassuring grin.

"Oh, don't worry, Alistair. You'll do fine. You won't have to worry about that for quite some time, I wager. Even if you do know how to read and write, there's a very good chance that the other Apprentices in your group don't. And besides, whatever Enchanter you get can't nearly be as bad as Enchanter Torrin." Anders patted Alistair's back and went back to his food, eating with great gusto.

Alistair stared at his friend a moment longer, before turning back to his meal. Well. That was...interesting to know. So. He was going to learn how to read and write, huh? That...wasn't too bad. Maybe it would even be...fun? Teagan had always liked to read him stories about young brave soldiers resisting the oppression of the evil Orlesians, when he had visited. If Alistair could learn how to read stories like that, it wouldn't be so bad.

Breakfast lasted for another ten minutes, before some really old person—

"First Enchanter Irving. Nice guy, I suppose, but he lets the Knight-Commander get away with too much, if you ask me." Anders helpfully supplied.

—Announced that it was time for the morning lessons. Everyone in the large hall started to bustle out at that announcement, and some men and women with odd tattoos—

"Those are the Tranquil. They're...um...I'll tell you later, Alistair."

—Began to clean up the tables. Alistair followed Anders and the stream of Mages out of the Great Hall. It was hard for him to navigate his way through the many twists and turns of the endless hallways, but thankfully Anders was there to guide him back to the dormitory.

"The Enchanters will come by in five minutes to pick us all up." Anders hurriedly explained as he rummaged through his trunk. The other Apprentices in the dorm were doing the same, gathering up parchment and quills and other things that they apparently needed for their lessons. Alistair took in the sight, bewildered and just a bit concerned.

"Do I...need anything for my lessons?" Alistair inquired, rather hoping the answer would be no.

After all, the only thing he had now were those nice new robes that Wynne had given him! And his mother's amulet, too. Thankfully Alistair had been wearing that when those nasty Templars came. But he really hoped he wouldn't need the amulet for anything; it was really precious to him, and probably very fragile.

"No, not right now, at any rate." Anders replied, popping the trunk closed. "Like I said, they'll start you off easy. You won't need any books or quills or parchment until you learn to read and write, I wager."

"O...kay." Alistair said, more than a little relieved. Though he really didn't look forward to when he _would_ need to have all these things. It didn't seem all that fun. And wasn't learning magic suppose to be, well...maybe not all that fun, since the Chantry said magic was very, very dangerous. Hm.

"So...who's going to be my, er, Enchanter?"

Anders gave a shrug, as he stuffed all of his supplies in a satchel.

"Beats me. Whoever is free to take on a new class, I suppose. Whoever you get, it'll probably be the last person who comes for students. First come the Enchanters who have the older students, the Apprentices who aren't too far off from taking their Harrowing. Then we go down the line until the youngest get taken in; you'll likely be last, as well as the other new Apprentices, since you're just starting your schooling."

Alistair gave a slow nod, and prepared to ask Anders another question, when an older Mage moved into the room, calling for his students. His arrival signaled the coming of the other Enchanters, and in small groups, the Apprentice Magi left the dormitory. When Anders was called forth, the lad gave Alistair a friendly smile and wished him luck, leaving swiftly.

Soon enough Alistair was one of the only ones left in the dorm; only two girls and another boy remained—the other new Apprentices, if Alistair remembered correctly.

A small and slender Elven woman made her way in, then, and looked about. She took stock of her new students, and a small smile made its way onto her face.

"I presume you are all my students, then? Excellent. Come to me, children. We have much to learn." She spoke in an ethereal, hypnotizing voice, a voice quite unlike anything Alistair had heard before. He blushed slighly—why, he wasn't quite sure—and followed the Elf out of the dorm, alongside the other children.

"We shall go to the library first, I think. Yes, that sounds like a splendid idea. Follow me." The Elf continued to speak in her beautiful voice, and herded them all along. Alistair trailed along eagerly, deciding at once that he would look forward to any and all future lessons with this Enchanter. She seemed very...nice.

They reached the library, and the Enchanter led them to a small table in the corner of the room. She took a seat, and motioned for the children to do the same. Once they were all seated, she gave a brilliant smile, and spoke again.

"My name is Angelica, and I shall be your instructor in the ways of the Magi. It is very nice meeting you all. How about we start introducing ourselves? Any volunteers?"

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly felt very nervous speaking in her presence. He closed his lips and blushed again, wondering why he felt so _weird. _

One of the girls spoke up in the small silence that followed, in a timid yet polite tone.

"I am Emilia, Enchanter Angelica. Emilia Amell. It is nice to meet you too." The young girl gave their new teacher a shy smile, and Angelica smiled back.

"Thank you, Emilia. My, that's a pretty name. And you may all just call me Angelica; I do not care for any intimidating titles. Who's next?"

The only other boy in the group spoke this time, in a stronger, firmer tone. A slight wavering in his words was the only thing that betrayed his apprehension.

"I'm Jowan Cormac, Angelica. It's, ah, rather nice to meet you too."

Angelica gave him a warm, friendly nod, and waved her hand at them to continue. The other girl, the Elf, was the next to speak. Her words tumbled together and were filled with stutters.

"I'm, um, T-T-Talia S-Surana, um, Angelica. I, um, it's, n-n-n-nice to meet you, a-as w-well."

Angelica gave the girl a considering look for the barest moment, but swiftly smiled and nodded. "It's great to meet you as well, Talia. You're a very pretty young girl, if you don't mind me saying. And who is next?"

Angelica turned her gaze to Alistair, and the young boy couldn't help but gulp, as his cheeks continued to redden. The eyes of the other children fell upon him as well, and Alistair desperately wished their attention was elsewhere. But he had to speak, or else Angelica might think something was wrong with him.

"I am, um, Alistair..." He trailed off, wishing he could speak his last name, the name that his father bared; but it simply wasn't possible. Eamon had always told him never to reveal his last name to anyone. No one could know that the King had a bastard son. Not to mention Eamon had always promised that great trouble would follow if he ever spoke the name...

"...Um, just Alistair." The young boy lamely finished. Angelica blinked at him, and her eyes took stock of him anew, making Alistair wince. She relented on the subject, however, and simply moved on.

"Well, it is so very nice and pleasant to meet you all. I hope that we'll all become great friends through our journey in the ways of the Magi; it will be a long and bumpy road, I daresay, but I am confident I can guide you through it. Now...who can tell me what the Chantry says about magic?"

An brief silence followed, before Emilia raised her hand. "Um, I think it says something like, _'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,'_ right?"

"Very good, Emilia." Angelica brightly smiled at the young girl, and quickly moved on.

"Indeed, that is the general idea that the Chantry has on magic. Our first lesson relates to that tenant. And so, the first lesson I shall teach you all, indeed, the most important lesson I shall _ever_ teach you all, is thus."

Angelica leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered gravely to her captivated audience.

"Rejoice in your gift, my young friends. For that is what our magic is: a gift. Do not listen to what the Templars, Chantry priests, or even what some of our fellow Mages say. Magic is a gift bestowed upon us from the Maker; why else would He grant us such amazing abilities? We have a heavy burden to pay for our gifts, true, but life is not without consequences. So never forget, children, that the magic you possess is _not_ a curse, but a very important power that the Maker has seen fit to grant you all. Never forget that."

A heavy silence followed, as the Apprentices all digested this information. Alistair himself was a tad unsure of what Angelica claimed; it contradicted some of the stuff Wynne had told him last night, and what the Chantry said, too. But...it all sounded nice, and much better than all the doom and gloom that was usually piled onto magic. So maybe Angelica was right, then?

Yes, she must be, Alistair decided. There was no other possible explanation. Besides, adults couldn't ever lie to children! Right?

"Now," Angelica brought their attention back to her, and she beamed at all of them. "With that out of the way, who knows how to read and write?"


	4. So A Real Education Feels Like This?

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: So This is What Getting an Education is Like**

As it turned out, only Emilia knew her letters; the rest of them were quite illiterate. Alistair felt a tad bit embarrassed admitting that to Angelica, but he felt better in the knowledge that Jowan and Talia were in the same position as him.

"It is no problem, I assure you all." Angelica swiftly declared, her voice mesmerizing Alistair once more. He wondered just how she was able to make it sound so...lovely. Was it magic?

"Unfortunately, illiteracy is common with a good majority of Fereldan population...indeed, with the population of any nation in general. Only nobles and merchants are the ones who are taught how to read and write, I wager."

Emilia fidgeted a little at what Angelica said, Alistair noted. Huh. Why? Was she..._embarrassed_ that she knew how to read and write? Odd. Why would she be embarrassed?

"Now, at any rate, it is my duty now to teach the three of you your letters. It is a necessity if you are to advance here at the Circle, I'm afraid. Now, Emilia, would you be so kind as to help me? Having an assistant in this matter would be lovely..."

And so for the next half-hour—Alistair thought it felt like that, at least—Angelica, with the help of little Emilia, began to teach them all on the matters of literacy.

It was difficult to understand at first, Alistair found, but not impossible altogether. Angelica was kind and patient and sweet, and slowly but surely, Alistair began to understand. By the end of the lesson, he, Jowan, and Talia had a good grasp of their letters, though they hadn't even come close to mastering it. Yet.

"Hopefully within the next few weeks or so, you shall all be proficient with your reading and writing." Angelica promised, giving her students a cheerful smile. Alistair felt his cheeks redden once more. Gah! Why was his body acting so...strangely around Angelica? Was her magic affecting him, or something?

"Now, moving on." Angelica stowed away the parchment and quills she had used for the writing lessons into her satchel, and pulled out a small cup and a flask. She sat both items down on the table.

"Let us do our first lesson with magic itself, yes? I've found that elemental spells are the easiest to teach and master first; they are the most basic, most fundamental of all the various branches of spells within Magic. Today we will focus on the Frost elemental spell, since that will be of the least danger to you all and to the books within the library."

Angelica unscrewed the top off her flask, and poured what appeared to be water into the cup. After it was full, she sealed the flask and put it aside. She moved her right hand over to the cup, and slowly waved her palm over it. To the amazement of Alistair and his fellow Apprentices, the cup and the water it contained froze solid; a thin sheet of frost formed around the cup, and the water itself was turned into a block of ice. After a full ten seconds, however, the Frost spell wore off, and the cup and its contents returned to normal.

"This spell does not last long, but it has its uses, nonetheless." Angelica reached out and carefully pushed the cup to the center of the table, and closer to her students.

"Now, I would like you all to try and freeze the cup and water. Now, do not fret; it is easier than you think. Harnessing your magic is something that can be hard to do, at first, but these sort of exercises will help you all along that road. To call your magic, you will need to _will _it to come. You will need to _order_ it to obey you. Magic is something that exists to follow our every command, no matter what it is. However, simply having the strength to harness your individual magic in such a way can be difficult, at first. And thus, the purpose of this exercise is to help establish that control. It will be hard, but over the coming week, I expect your control to grow by leaps and bounds!"

Angelica smiled encouragingly at her students, before moving on.

"Now, children, take a turn each and wave your hand over the cup. Summon forth your birthright, and command your Magic to freeze this object. Don't try to put too much pressure on the command, however: overcompensating could have...damaging results. Also, do not be disappointed if you are not able to freeze the cup. We all have varying amounts of control over our magic, at the start. So do not be frustrated at any lack of inability, children."

They all nodded solemnly at her cautious warnings, and stared at the cup, waiting for the first volunteer to try and repeat Angelica's feat. Alistair stared uncertainly at his fellows, not quite wanting to be the first to go. Eventually, Emilia was the first one to brave the storm, so to speak, and extended her hand out to the cup, summoning her magic.

Her hand trembling slightly, she carefully waved it over the cup. The cup froze, but unlike with Angelica, it was gone in the blink of an eye, lasting for only a mere second.

"A very good first try, Emilia!" Angelica was quick to state, after seeing Emilia's confused face. She went on to say,

"However, it lacked the right amount of force. Each and every spell must have a proper amount of force in it to make it fully work, on top of having the right amount of control over your magic, as well. Too much force, and the spell might literally blow up in your face. Too little force, however, and the spell will have very little effect at all. Keep that in mind. I caution you all to be careful in the amount of force exerted in your spells, but at the same time, do not put too little into it. Achieving the perfect balance between the two extremes will be hard at first, but with practice, I am sure you shall all master it. Who is next?"

After a brief silence, Jowan was the next one to give it a go. He took a breath and waved his hand over the cup. However, nothing at all happened to it.

"Not bad, Jowan, but it seems your control or your force seems to be out of balance. Try again; perhaps I can diagnose the problem."

Jowan frowned, but did as Angelica asked. He waved his hand at the cup again, this time more slowly, but once again, nothing happened.

"Hm. Tell me, Jowan, what was the incident that awakened your magic? If you do not mind me asking?" Angelica kindly inquired, her gentle gaze fixed on the young boy. Jowan stammered for a moment, caught off guard from the sudden question, but soon answered.

"Uh...well...my little sister got a nasty cut on her leg. I tried to bandage it best as I could, but it was bleeding badly. I wanted to help her so badly, since she was in a lot of pain, and the next thing I knew...the cut was healed."

Angelica nodded thoughtfully at the story, considering it. After a few moments of thought, she voiced her hypothesis.

"I believe you have control issues then, Jowan. You were able to coax your magic in such a stressful situation, but it seems that it is not so easy to call forth otherwise. Worry not: I shall help you overcome that. You are done for now, Jowan. Next?"

Alistair did not want to go last again, and have all eyes on him once more, so he decided to get it over with. He took a deep, calming breath to settle his nerves, and concentrated on what Angelica had said. He needed to order his magic to freeze the cup, and exert the right amount of force. That...sounded hard. How was he even going to call...

Oh. Huh.

Alistair blinked, and for the first time since arriving at the Tower last night, noticed...well, it was hard to describe. It was a sort of odd feeling that encompassed his entire body; distant, but ever-present, with a sort of pleasant hum to it.

Was...was that his magic? Wow. It felt so...good and cool and peaceful and _nice_. It didn't seem all that hard to call on, now. In fact, Alistair thought that the odd...energy within his body was just _waiting _to be used or something. Or at least, that was how it felt to him.

"_Summon forth your birthright..."_

Alistair took Angelica's words to heart, and reached out within himself to coax his magic out; thankfully, it didn't shy away from him or anything weird like that. If anything, the magic eagerly leaped to his call, ready to obey his command.

Thus, Alistair waved his hand over the cup, commanding his magic to freeze it. And it worked, too. Unfortunately, he also ended up freezing a good third of the table top, too, before his magic stopped its spread.

"Good, Alistair. Very good. Though you exerted too much force into your spell. Do not worry, however. I shall teach you how to draw just the right amount of magic for your spells." Angelica intoned, her beautiful words and voice causing Alistair to blush again; and this time, not just in embarrassment.

"_Ugh! Why does Angelica make me feel so...weird? I've _got_ to ask Anders about this. Maybe he knows..."_

Alistair let that thought trail off, and looked over at shy and timid Talia, who was now shaking in her seat. The poor girl looked to be on the verge of tears, as she stared down at her hands.

"Uh, don't worry! It's...not as hard as it looks!" Alistair blurted out; he felt rather sorry for her, even if he didn't understand why she was shaken so badly. Sure, doing this was kinda nerve-racking, but it couldn't be that bad! Right?

"I-I-It isn't?" Talia stuttered, looking over at Alistair with a shimmer of hope in her eyes. Alistair felt rather awkward, under her gaze, but he tried not to shy away from it. He wasn't really used to it, but he had to help comfort her, right?

"Yes. Like Angelica said, it might be, um, hard to do, but even if you aren't that good at it, um, it's ah, not too big a deal!"

Personally, Alistair felt that his words only made things worse for Talia, but miraculously, she appeared to take some solace in them. She bit her lip, staring down as her hands grasped at her robes, before she spoke again.

"Um, Miss Angelica, you um, won't...hit me if I get it wrong...will you?"

Alistair blinked at that question. That...was unexpected. Quickly, he looked over to Angelica to see what she'd tell her.

Alistair blinked again, seeing that Angelica had gone quite pale, now. Their stunned teacher opened and closed her mouth several times, before she was finally able to voice her response.

"Of-of course not, Talia. I would _never _harm you. _Never._ In fact, you do not have to perform the spell if you don't feel ready; you can do that another day."

Talia bet her lip as she looked away again, but swiftly nodded, all the same. "If...if that's alright. I...I really don't want to disappoint you, um, Miss Angelica."

Angelica gave a rapid nod of her head and gave her students another charming smile. "Well, then. I believe that's all for this morning. I'll take you back to your dorms, children. You'll have a few hours to yourself, and then you'll be called for lunch. After that, we'll have our afternoon lesson. Alright? Follow me, then."

Angelica stood up and turned, walking away. Alistair quickly followed her, alongside the other three, and they soon found themselves back in their dorms. They were alone again, however; it seemed the other Apprentices were still out and about with their morning lessons.

The children stood near the center of the room, quite unsure of what to do with themselves, now. Emilia was the first one to breach the silence that filled the room, voicing a question that Alistair himself was quite curious about.

"Um...Talia, was it? Um...w-why did you think Angelica was going to...hit you if you didn't do the spell right?"

* * *

_Offhand, I do not believe there is much in DA:O about the mechanics of their version of Magic. Aside from, 'this spell does such and such damage', and 'take Lyrium potions to restore mana!', I don't think we get a lot about how the bloody thing actually works. Thus, I've taken a few liberties with the mechanics of the Dragon Age Magicks. _

_Also, to Konous, my sole non-member reviewer (thus far): just because the tag is Alistair/Anders, does not necessarily mean the two will be paired together in this fanfic. Not to mention it is far too early to go into any potential pairings that may happen in this fanfic. I tagged the fanfic as Alistair/Anders because Anders is/will be Alistair's best friend and confidant in the Circle. So I felt that tag was ok, for that purpose. _

_Not that I won't rule out a potential romantic pairing between Anders and Alistair. I find it unlikely to happen, but I won't rule it out completely. Though as I've said, it is far too early to speculate about pairings. Alistair is 10 years old, and Anders is 13. Not the best age for romantic relationships, for either of them. And as for pairing Alistair with either the Surana or Amell Warden, still too young there, as well. Amell and Surana are both 9 years old, give or take. As I said in regards to Alistair/Anders, the potential of the pairing is possible, but is nowhere near to being even set up. So yeah. Basically, you guys are gonna have to wait until puberty for Alistair and Company before any sort of pairings become evident for any pf the characters._

_So that's it for this lengthy author's note. Thanks to all my reviewers, and my beta-reader ChiruseaFaige. Please do not forget to review!_


	5. Getting to Know Each Other

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

_By the way, I have a mild warning for the contents of this chapter. Nothing is ever explicitly spelled out or completely expanded on, so things don't get...too squeamish, and it all goes by pretty fast, but there's enough implied here that some people might find it disturbing. Just so you all know. _

_And with that out of the way, on with the chapter._

* * *

**Chapter 4: Getting to Know Each Other**

"...I..." Talia looked down at her feet, and squirmed under their collective gaze. Alistair felt rather sorry for her, and hated making her feel so embarrassed, but he _did_ want to know why she thought Angelica would hit her if she did the spell wrong. Why would she _ever_ think something like that?

"I'm...not supposed to tell. T-The Arl said I c-c-could never tell..." Talia said, keeping her eyes on the floor.

"_She...knows Arl Eamon?"_ Alistair questioned for a moment, and wondered if she had been a servant at Castle Redcliffe, or something. But...no, no, maybe not. There were plenty of Arls in Fereldan, Alistair chided himself. For all he knew, Talia could be talking about the Arl of Amarathine, or something. Still...

"And which Arl would that be?" Emilia gently questioned, just before Alistair himself could ask.

"Arl Urien. The Arl of Denerim." Talia replied automatically. She then whipped her head back up, her eyes wide.

"I-I-I wasn't s-supposed to say that!" She looked around fretfully, as she took in quick, frightened breaths. "I wasn't supposed to s-say that! The Arl w-w-will punish me if he f-f-finds out!"

"The Arl isn't here, Talia. He can't hurt you. You're safe here, Talia. Trust me." Emilia was at Talia's side in an instant, and wrapped the young girl in a hug. She flinched from the sudden contact, but didn't push Emilia away.

Emilia then glanced over at Alistair and Jowan, and glared at them. She received blank stares in return, before Jowan suddenly spoke out.

"Right! Um, you're safe here, Talia. We're your...friends, and we won't let anything bad happen to you."

"What he said!" Alistair seconded, realizing what Emilia wanted them to say. "You're, uh, safe in the Circle, Talia. The, um, Arl, can't harm you here."

"You're s-s-s-sure?" Talia stuttered, casting a hopeful look at them all. Emilia vigorously nodded.

"Of course, Talia. No one is going to hurt you here. Like...Alistair said, you're safe in the Circle. We all are."

Their words finally had an affect on her, and Talia began to calm down. Her breathing slowed to a more sedate rate, and she then returned the embrace Emilia still held her in. After a peaceful minute of silence, Emilia separated from Talia, and gave her a reassuring, if somewhat awkward, smile.

"Do you...think you can tell us now, Talia?"

"Y-Yes." Talia hesitantly replied, though her eyes still darted around, as if she expected to be taken away at any minute. "I...can."

Talia took a few deep breaths, and started out slowly, building up courage as she told her tale.

"My...my father ran off to find the Dalish before I was born, and, um, it was just me and my Mum, and...she was a maid at the Arl's Estate in Denerim, and, um, she...died a year ago, and after that the Arl sent his men to the Alienage to take me to him. He...said that my mother wanted him to raise me as his w-ward before she died, but that was a lie, since my Aunt and Uncle were there to take care of me, and...and..."

She spoke very fast suddenly, and her words tumbled out together. Her face grew red and her body trembled more and more each passing second.

"ArlUrienmakesmetouchhimandhe hitsmewhenIdothingswrongorwh enItrytosaynoandhehitsmeeven when Idoitlikehesaidandhetouchesm eanditallfeelssowronganddirt yandIhatelivingwithhimand hissonmakesmedothingswithhim tooanditalwayshurtsandtheArl toldmehe'dwhipmeagainifItriedtotell someoneagainaboutwhatwedoand IhatehimIhatehimIhatehimIhat ehim___IhatehimIhatehimIhat ehim IhatehimIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHAT EHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIMIHATEHIM —!"_

Talia collapsed to the floor, and broke down crying, her words entirely incomprehensible now as she sobbed.

Alistair stared with shock at the poor girl, his mind unable to process almost anything she had just said in her rambling. But what he had been able to make it...that was just...the Arl of Denerim whipped Talia? And his son...hurt Talia in some way, too? That...that was just...it all sounded like something the Orlesians would do in the tales Teagan told him, instead of something a real person would do...

After a brief moment of shock and indecision, Jowan was the first one to spring into action, surprisingly. He hastily strode over to Talia, and wrapped his arms around her. Talia did not resist his impromptu hug, and instead buried her face in his shoulder. Emilia soon joined them, and knelt beside Talia, rubbing her back in a soothing manner.

Feeling like he ought to do something himself, Alistair made his way to the other children, dropping down next to Talia. He wasn't quite sure what to do, but in the end settled for awkwardly patting Talia's shoulder as she cried. Alistair definitely was not any sort of expert in comforting people, but he hoped his efforts were enough to help the poor girl. And Teagan had said that he should always do his best to help out distraught young maidens! Or something like that.

Eventually, their combined efforts helped to settle Talia's spirits, and her sobs trickled down to an occasional hiccup, before she stopped altogether. A few minutes passed, before she finally lifted her head up from Jowan's damp shoulder, and spoke again.

"I...t-thanks. I'm, um, sorry to be a b-b-burden. I just...I-I've always wanted to say that, for s-s-so long..."

"Think nothing of it, Talia. Like Jowan said, we're friends, aren't we?" Emilia replied with a smile. "And friends help each other out, always!"

"W-We're friends?" Talia's eyes brightened, as she gave them all a wide look.

"Of course! I...meant what I said." Jowan said, his face slowly breaking out into a huge grin. "I've never really had any friends before, but...that's what we are, aren't we? We may have had different lives before coming to the Circle, but we're here now, and being taught together to become Mages. Why shouldn't we be friends?"

"Um, what Jowan said." Alistair echoed, unable to really say anything else; words failed him, at the moment, because he was rather...surprised, maybe? They were all...friends now? That...that was _great!_ Alistair never really made friends with kids his age before, or friends in general, but...well, it appeared he had some now! Things were _really_ looking up at the Circle now! True, Talia was really sad and mad about the things that nasty Arl did to her, but at least they were friends now! That was great!

"..." Words appeared to fail Talia as well, as she simply stared at them all in shock. In the end, she settled for giving a nod.

"Then that's that!" Emilia declared, standing up. She offered her hand to Talia, and hoisted the Elven lass up to her feet. Jowan and Alistair swiftly got back up themselves.

"Um, with all that...settled...why don't we change the subject to something more...pleasant? As friends, maybe we ought to...get to know each other better! Yes, we should do that!" Emilia decided, a cheerful grin on her face. "Let's do that!"

And so, Emilia led them all to a nearby bunk-bed, and they began an exchange of information.

* * *

"You're from Kirkwall? Really?" Alistair couldn't help but immediately blurt out. Emilia was from Kirkwall, a place _outside_ of Fereldan! That was wicked cool!

"I...well, y-yes. It's...not that special. Really." The girl in question blushed, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her robes. "It's...just a city in the Free Marches. Nothing that unique."

"But you're from _outside_ Fereldan! That's unbelievable! I've never even seen a foreigner, until now! That's _awesome_!" Alistair exclaimed, a great deal of awe present in his tone. Emilia blushed again, gripping nervously at her clothing.

"N-No! It's not all that special! Stop that! I'm just from Kirkwall, City of Chains. It's really not all that special! If anything, Fereldan is more amazing. It was a long trek to get here, and this country is just so _big _and _huge_! Fereldan's a lot more special than Kirkwall!"

Jowan chuckled, and shook his head at them both. "Alistair's awe aside, you have to admit it's rather neat, Emilia. Aside from maybe some remnants from the Orlesian Occupation, I doubt there are any other non-Fereldans in the Circle. You're the odd Mabari out, to borrow a phrase."

"Oh, just stop it!" Emilia groaned, burying her head in her hands. "I'm just from a different country! Er...city-state, to be more accurate. But really, it's not all that special!"

In an effort to brighten the tone of conversation after Talia's...revelations, Emilia had decided to ask where they were all from. Talia already said she was from Denerim, Jowan revealed that he was from Amarathine, Alistair explained he was from Redcliffe,—though neglected to mention anything about the stables—and they had just found out that Emilia was from _Kirkwall,_ a city in the _Free Marches_, of all places! She wasn't even a Fereldan at all!

And, naturally, Alistair—and Jowan to a certain degree—found the whole thing _fascinating_, much to Talia's amusement and Emilia's continual embarrassment.

"Says the girl who claimed to have never even seen a Mabari before, until arriving at the Denerim docks," Jowan couldn't help but tease, a wide grin spread across his face. Emilia groaned again, and grabbed at a nearby pillow, tossing it over at the young boy. It caught the surprised Jowan square in the face, making him flop back down onto the bed he laid on.

After a brief, almost tense moment of silence, Jowan sprung up and threw the pillow right back at Emilia, hitting her chest. Emilia squealed, and sent the pillow back at Jowan again, who ducked it in the nick of time.

What followed was the Pillow Fight of the Ages, or so Alistair referred to it in his head; soon enough Jowan and Emilia dragged Talia and himself into their little squabble, and the pillows started flying all over the place, as they lost themselves in the excitement of the moment.

How long they did this, Alistair wasn't quite sure; but it all came to a crashing halt when a new voice made its presence clear.

"Ahem."

With a single word, the pillow fight ceased, and the children froze in their tracks. Alistair turned with growing fear to the source of the voice, wondering if they were going to get punished for causing such a ruckus. His fears were relieved, however, when he saw that it was just Wynne and Angelica in the room, and the both of them could not keep the smiles off their faces.

"I see you're all having a good time." Angelica dryly noted, a chuckle escaping out of her lips.

"S-Sorry, Angelica. We...um...got carried away." Emilia admitted, blushing terribly under the gaze of the older women. Shaking her head, Wynne gave them all an amused sigh and muttered under her breath, saying something Alistair couldn't quite catch. Aloud, she said to them all,

"Before we take care of the business we came here for, I believe the other Apprentices would not appreciate their pillows being tossed around like that. Would you dears be kind enough to pick them all up, and put them back to where they belong?"

Alistair jumped straight into action at Wynne's words, and scurried together with his new friends—he had _friends_, now, that was so _awesome!—_to collect the wayward pillows. Thankfully they hadn't damaged any of them during their impromptu fight, though Alistair had no idea which pillow went to which bunk; he just hoped they all put them back in the right order.

When they finished that, they all grouped back together, under Angelica and Wynne's watchful eyes. Wynne nodded approvingly at them, and fixed her eyes on little Talia. The timid girl squirmed slightly under the attention, causing Wynne to sigh and break eye-contact.

"I admit that I am hesitant to interrupt such fun activities, but with all that settled now...it has come to my attention, Talia, that your life may not have been so...pleasant, before arriving at the Circle." Wynne began, adopting a more serious expression on her face. Talia froze at her words, and stared at the ground, shaking slightly.

All the previous good humor present was quick to vanish, and Alistair was once more reminded of Talia's nasty and horrid past before she came to the Circle of Magi. He still didn't quite understand all that she had said earlier, and a part of him didn't really want to understand. All the same, though, he felt really sorry for poor Talia. Talking about it earlier certainly hadn't been easy for her, and no doubt wouldn't be any more easier a second time.

"Don't worry, Talia. You don't have to talk about it in front of your...friends. We are...just trying to help. If you want, Wynne and I can take you somewhere more...private, to talk about this. Would you like that?" Angelica inquired, her tone soothing and gentle.

Talia still did not look up, but she gave a slow, demure nod. Angelica walked over and carefully took her hand, before leading Talia out of the dormitory. Wynne followed her, though paused over the doorway. She glanced back at the confused and concerned faces of Alistair, Jowan, and Emilia, and sighed.

"This...will not be an easy time for Talia, children. She has no doubt faced many horrors that I can barely even begin to imagine. When she returns to you, please do be kind and gracious to her. She will need all the support she can get, in the times to come."

And with that, Wynne left the room.


	6. The Melancholy of an Enchanter

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

_I must again put a mild warning here for this chapter. Some details of Talia's abuse are expanded upon, but nothing too squeamish, I promise you. I honestly won't be able to write that much detail comfortably, anyway. _

_And with that said, onto the chapter._

* * *

**Interlude: The Melancholy of an Enchanter**

Not for the first time in her life, Angelica found herself back in the waiting room in the infirmary housed within Kinloch Hold, sitting on an uncomfortable and rickety chair. This little sitting room, and the wider area that contained the actual infirmary, brought up many memories for Angelica, both the good and the bad. In fact, if she remembered correctly, she had first woken up in the Circle at the infirmary...

The door separating the two rooms opened, jarring Angelica out of her thoughts. Her eyes flashed over to the entrance, and watched Senior Enchanter Wynne step out, a heavy scowl on her face. An icy fear gripped Angelica's heart; as long as Angelica had known Wynne, the old woman had proved to be a calm, serene person that could only rarely be brought to anger. So whatever the Healer had found while checking over Talia, it must be bad.

"How is she?" Angelica asked immediately, springing to her feet. Wynne gave an exasperated sigh in response, though she tried to restore some measure of civility to her features. It didn't work.

"It...is not a pretty sight, Angelica. The Arl was clever to hide his abuse the best he could, by not marking any visible portions of Talia's body. It was why I gave her a clean bill of health when she arrived in the first place. But now that I know what to look for...it's not pretty. Talia has whip marks all over her back, and some of them look only a week old, at most. I've done my best to heal the damage, but she will have scars; my magic cannot prevent that."

Deep, unrelenting rage filled Angelica upon hearing those horrid words, but she did her best not to lash out or otherwise vocalize her feelings. It wouldn't help her in the slightest, and that rage was best directed elsewhere...

"And...what else?" Angelica finally managed to ask. Wynne grimaced, and shook her head.

"No...no. I...you do not want to _know_, Angelica. It makes me sick just to think about it; I could barely keep myself from exploding as I examined Talia. The whip marks were the least of the wounds the Arl inflicted on her, and that is saying quite a lot. The damage done to her physically is not too much to manage, however, with the proper care. I've already sent Talia into a light sleep, and I'm working on a list of potions that should help her fully recover. She will need to take the potions over a month or so for them to fully work, but that should be doable.

"The damage to her psychologically, however...Talia will have lingering issues, either way. The best thing we can do for her right now is to surround Talia with people who love and care for her, and have her keep up her friendship with Alistair and the other new Apprentices. Having her do regular counseling sessions with one of our own might help as well; Senior Enchanter Sweeney, perhaps. I'll talk it over with him. But other than that...all we can do is pray that Talia has a safe and smooth recovery.'"

Angelica sighed again, her frustration with the whole situation evident. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on that damned Arl..."

"You and me both, Angelica. I am not one for overt violence, but in this case, I'd make an exception." Wynne replied, a determined look on her face. "In fact, perhaps we should register our concerns with Greagoir and Irving. They might be able to get an investigation started into Arl Urien's doings..."

"No. That won't work, Wynne." Angelica stated in a defeated tone, sighing once more as she brought a hand to her temples.

"And why not?" Her fellow Mage challenged, a righteous fire blazing within her eyes. "Talia is just a child! No one has the right to harm her that way! If this...this..._sin _were brought to the attention of the Chantry in Denerim, perhaps even to the Grand Cleric herself, then they would be able to open an investigation, and hopefully bring the Arl to justice and—!"

"And Talia is a commoner, an Elf, and worse yet, a _Mage_, Wynne." Angelica cut in, glaring at her. Wynne paused briefly, considering her words, but shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Angelica butted in once more.

"We can file all the claims we want, but nothing will be done about it. Talia is worth as much as a Mabari in the eyes of the Chantry. No...even a _Mabari_ is treated better than any Elf or Mage. Not to mention the fact that Urien is a noble! Worse yet, the Arl of the capital city of Fereldan! Even if we could find someone to listen to our claims, he's untouchable. Face it, Wynne. There's nothing we can do...except, like you said, help Talia recover from all this trauma."

Angelica concluded her little speech and looked sharply at Wynne, as if daring her to disagree. And Wynne, the optimist that she was, did.

"I refuse to buy into your cynicism, Angelica." The older Mage gave her a reproachful stare, crossing her arms together. "There is _something_ we can do, I am sure! Arl Urien _will _be brought to justice!"

With that said, the Healer marched out of the room, no doubt heading toward the office of the First Enchanter.

"Stubborn old cow..." Angelica muttered under her breath, as she left the waiting room herself.

It was irrational to get upset at Wynne, of course, especially since she just wanted to help Talia so very much. But Angelica had a more...realistic viewpoint on the whole ugly matter. There was no way Talia would ever see justice, unless she went after her abuser herself at a later date...though Angelica doubted she'd ever do that. Or would be able to ever do that, consider there were very few exceptions to Mages leaving Kinloch Hold. Still, at least Wynne was trying to help out the poor girl, even if her efforts were futile.

And who knows? Maybe her actions would bear fruit; if they were lucky, maybe her testimony would catch the attention of a priest who wouldn't be afraid of talking action against a noble, and who would believe the words of a Mage and an Elf...

"...And then what?" Angelica asked herself quietly, frowning as a new series of events unfolded in her mind. Even if they were to find such a priest...what could they hope for? What might happen, if everything were to fall into alignment?

Well, perhaps at best, the Chantry would be forced to take action, and bring this accusation to the King himself. By all accounts King Maric was a just and good man, so he'd likely take the matter seriously, and put Arl Urien on a proper trial. And that was all well and good, especially if the Arl was found guilty.

But if things didn't turn out that way...what was the worst case scenario?

A lot of unnecessary scrutiny would be placed on Talia, for sure. She'd be forced to tell her story again and again and again to Chantry officials and members of the Nobility and everyone inbetween, no doubt, to ascertain the validity of her words. And by that point, the Arl would be told by his supporters about this unsavory business, and would then simply wave away her tales as lies from a godless Mage Elf, or some such nonsense, and then he'd pay off the right people, and the matter would be dropped forever. And Talia, after getting her hopes up of perhaps seeing the Arl punished for what he had done to her, would just _break _if he got away without even a slap on the wrist.

Admittedly, that did seem a tad far-fetched; after all, a hundred things had to go wrong for that horrible situation to take place, assuming Wynne's complaints were even seriously listened to. But...honestly, that terrible scenario seemed a lot more likely to occur than the best case scenario.

"_It makes me rather hopeful, then, that Wynne's accusations probably will not leave the Tower. I doubt the Knight-Commander has the balls to stir up any trouble with the nobility..." _

Angelica blinked, and gave a sad sigh at that train of thought.

This _must _be a sick and twisted world, she decided, if the best Talia could hope for was that an accusation against her molester never see the light of day, least she falsely get her hopes up. What a sad, sad world this was when such a horrid thing was true...

"I can see why the Maker turned His gaze away from our world." Angelica murmured. "If a monster like Urien can't be punished to the full extent of the law for his crimes against Talia, then we truly are all completely and utterly hopeless."

Another sigh, and Angelica came to another conclusion.

"Andraste's Nightgown, I need a _drink_."

* * *

One pilfered bottle of Antivan wine later—the Knight-Commander wouldn't miss it, she was rather sure of that—and Angelica was well on her way to getting drunk in the empty and vacant dining hall, which wouldn't be used again until lunch; which was still a few good hours off.

She was almost halfway through the bottle when someone stepped into the hall. Angelica tensed for a moment, wondering if Greagoir had indeed noticed his missing brandy, but relaxed when the person stepped closer into her line of sight.

"I somehow figured I might find you here, Angelica. You always seem to retreat into this room, when something troubles you." The man stated casually, sauntering over to her table. Angelica rolled her eyes and gave him a rather rude hand-gesture.

"Go away, Uldred. I'm not in the mood."

"That's _Senior Enchanter_ Uldred now, Angelica. I _have_ been promoted. Did you forget?" Uldred smirked at her, causing Angelica to gesture rudely at him again. He laughed, and despite her protests, took a seat next to her at the table.

"My, getting drunk already? It must be bad. Did one of your new students set the library on fire?" Uldred inquired, raising an eyebrow. Angelica gave a grunt and shook her head.

"...Worse. A student of mine has a...fear of authority figures, it seems. Or maybe of adults in general. She...was abused, before coming to the Circle."

"Ah." Uldred adopted a more serious expression and gave a solemn nod. "I can see why you've resorted to alcohol, then. Dealing with nasty situations like that is never good for any Enchanter. It's especially hard to make such children comfortable with you; even with counseling and other help, they're always afraid you, especially if their abuser did a number on them."

"Yeah. I did some quick reading about the...protocols in place, in regards to children like Talia...and the writings always warn that the children will find it hard to connect with their teacher, especially if he or she somehow reminds them of their abuser. I...I don't really look forward to that. But I've got to help her. Talia needs to know that she doesn't have anything to fear at the Circle, now." Angelica replied, gazing into her goblet of wine.

"Besides the Templars, of course." Uldred added rather unhelpfully. "And the Demons. And the Chantry. And the—"

"_Not helping_, Uldred!" Angelica hissed back, glaring intensely at him.

"Don't you think I _know_ that?! It's bad enough that Talia has to recover from her Year of Hell with that damned Arl without being able to see her abuser brought to justice. But how can I also warn her that the Circle, which is _supposed_ to be a safe-haven for us Mages, which is _supposed _to be a safe-haven for _her _now, is just as damned dangerous as the outside world, if not moreso?! How am I supposed to tell her, or even tell Alistair or Emilia or Jowan, that the Templars want to see us dead or made Tranquil? Maker, how am I even going to tell them about the _Tranquil_? That's a horrible enough fate for us Mages. And then there's always the dangers of becoming an Abomination..."

Angelica slumped into her chair, and gazed more into the deep crimson wine that filled her cup. She then murmured,

"How...how am I ever going to tell Talia, or any of my students, that they may have exchanged one hell for another?"

A deep moment of contemplative silence followed, as Uldred said nothing. Angelica continued to stare into her wine, wondering if perhaps her earlier words of Magic being a gift to all Mages were really true at all.

_"Rejoice in your gift, my young friends. For that is what our magic is: a gift. Do not listen to what the Templars, Chantry priests, or even what some of our fellow Mages say. Magic is a gift bestowed upon us from the Maker; why else would He grant us such amazing abilities? We have a heavy burden to pay for our gifts, true, but life is not without consequences. So never forget, children, that the magic you possess is not a curse, but a very important power that the Maker has seen fit to grant you all. Never forget that." _

Her words had been intended to inspire the children, to give them hope for a life at the Tower, to show them the lies of the Chantry. But now...faced once more with the dark realities of their plight...

Perhaps what the Chantry said about Magic really was true; after all, what sort of 'gift' would turn a sweet little girl like Talia into a crazed Abomination, if she were possessed by a Demon? What sort of 'gift' would allow a nice and good boy like Jowan to turn into a Maleficar that used the blood of the innocent to enact evil rituals? What sort of 'gift' would subject a kind and gentle girl like Emilia to the temptations of the various Demons of the Fade? What sort of 'gift' would do anything like that to its user? Maybe—

Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when Uldred broke his non-action and wrapped an arm around her. Angelica did not push him away, though; in fact, she leaned into his touch, and rested her head upon his chest. Uldred said nothing for the moment, content to slowly stroke her back. But he did speak, eventually, and so he launched into a speech of sorts.

"I've had such thoughts myself, Angelica." He began, pausing for just a second, and moved on.

"The world of the Magi can be a cruel one, that is for sure. But that does not mean our Magic is inherently evil or cursed. For every twisted Abomination, we have a righteous Healer of unrivaled strength. For every vile and cruel Tevinter Mage, who seek nothing more than to gain greater power over the peoples of Thedas, there is a valiant Circle Mage or an Apostate, who want nothing more than to help their fellow man, and restore the image of Mages in the eyes of the world. For every bad, there is good. And I honestly believe the Good outweighs the Bad.

"Besides, isn't this sad and sorry state of Magi life the very _reason_ we're trying to change things? After all, we can't wallow in self-pity forever. Our life is harsh and difficult, there is no denying that, but there are things we can do to improve them. Giving the youth of each generation more hope and more freedom than the last is but one step toward making _all _of our lives easier and far more bearable, and that's just the start. That is why we _both _joined the Libertarian Fraternity, Angelica. To ensure the safety and freedom of _all_ Mages in Thedas, one step at a time."

Uldred finished, and another silence settled over them, as Angelica thought over what he said.

He was right, of course, she finally chided herself. Uldred was _always_ right about these things; it was foolish of her to even _think_ that their Magic was anything like what the Chantry said it was. Talia's years at the Circle wouldn't be the easiest, even if she did recover from the emotional trauma inflicted by Arl Urien. By then she would have to face many trials and tribulations with Templars, the Chantry in general, Demons, maybe even with her fellow Mages. But at least she would be surrounded by people who loved her, people who would always protect her and would never see her harmed by anyone. And in the end, wasn't that enough?

...Yes. Yes, it was.

"...Thanks for saying that, Uldred. You always do know how to lift up my spirits." Angelica raised her head and gave the Senior Enchanter a grateful smile.

"Well, it was the least I could do, for my old Apprentice. The bond between Student and Teacher never really dies, Angelica, as I'm sure you'll find out. Besides, you're a good friend, too. If it weren't for you, I'm not quite sure if I would have been confirmed as a Senior Enchanter at all. Your testimony made all the difference. If I can repay the favor by cheering you up, well, then that's fine by me." He said, giving Angelica a fond smile in return.

No more words were exchanged for some time, and the two rested within the peace and quiet that ensued. All good things must come to an end, however, and soon enough Angelica had to pry herself away from her dear Uldred.

"Well, thanks for the pep talk, Uldred. I appreciate it. But I do still have an afternoon class to teach, even with one pupil missing. And I need to brew up a quick potion to flush out the alcohol in my system..."

Angelica stood up and stretched, trying to remember how long it usually took to properly prepare her needed potion. All that proved unnecessary, though, as Uldred brought out a small vial from inside his robes.

"I had a feeling you might need this. Go ahead and take a swig. There should be enough in here to get rid of that wine. And speaking of which..."

Uldred reached over and plucked the wine bottle from the table, leaving the vial in its place. "It'd be a terrible crime to waste such good drink. I believe I shall confiscate this."

Angelica rolled her eyes once more, but took the vial all the same. "Oh, I supposed you've earned it. Once again, thanks for the talk, Uldred. I needed it."

"No problem, my dear." Uldred replied cheerfully. "Good luck teaching that class. I have a feeling those children of yours are going to run you ragged, by the time they've left you for a more specialized Enchanter."

Angelica gave a light chuckle in response to his words, shaking her head. She downed the contents of the vial in one go, placed it back on the table, and then left the dining hall, off to fetch her students once more.


	7. The Dynamic Duo

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Dynamic Duo**

After Talia was taken away, Alistair wasn't sure what he, Jowan, and Emilia could do, now. Their previous good mood was most definitely gone now. They all stared at each other awkwardly, unsure of how to breach the uneasy silence...but, thankfully they were rescued from the uncomfortable situation via the timely arrival of the other Apprentices, as they too returned from their morning lessons.

A few of the older girls ended up carting Emilia away, talking a mile a minute as they inquired about her day, and Jowan's bunkmate—one of Anders' friends, if Alistair remembered correctly...Niall, was it?—similarly whisked him away. Alistair himself wasn't left alone for long, however, as a beaming Anders entered the dorm and hurried over to him.

"Glad to see you survived your first lesson, Alistair! How was it? Did you have a decent Enchanter. Have you learned any spells yet?" Anders asked eagerly as he dragged Alistair back over to their bunk. The young boy blinked rapidly, caught off guard by the sudden barrage of questioning, but tried to answer all the same.

"Um, the lesson went well, I guess." He said, wondering for a moment if he should say anything about Talia...but then dismissed it. After all, what Talia was going through was...private business, right? She probably wouldn't like it if they all started gossiping about it, or stuff like that.

"Our Enchanter, a nice lady named Angelica, started on teaching us our letters, which is a bit harder than I thought it would be. She also taught us a, um...Frost spell, I think? We waved our hands over a cup and tried to freeze it solid." Alistair added.

Anders hummed and nodded, as he slung his satchel over his shoulders and tossing it up to his bunk. Moving over to open his trunk, he then inquired,

"Sounds like you have a good teacher, Alistair. So, then, what's her opinion about magic? She give you the usual Chantry rubbish about how magic is evil, our abilities are a curse, and all that nonsense?"

"N-No!" Alistair swiftly replied. Anders paused as he rummaged through his trunk, craning his head to look back at him. Alistair blushed slightly and quickly explained.

"Um, Angelica said our magic was an, um, gift. Not a...curse, or anything like that."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Truly? Well, then it looks like you've got the good sort of Enchanter! She sounds better than Enchanter Torrin already!"

"Yeah. She's really...nice." Alistair readily agreed with a bright smile. Anders looked at him for a moment, before nodding and turning his attention back to his trunk. After looking through it one last time, he took a book out of it and closed the lid.

"So..." Anders ventured, "How are your classmates, then? They all right?"

"Oh, yeah. We've actually become, um, fast friends." Alistair replied, his cheerful smile growing. Anders grinned at him in return, nodding once more.

"Good to hear, Alistair! It's always good to make friends with your classmates. I, however, am unlucky enough to have Petra as one of my classmates. You met her last night, I believe, though I don't think you talked long. We've been at each others throats for ages now. A puppet of the Chantry, she is. Believes in all that bull the Chantry spoon-feeds us. But anyway, I'm glad you've made friends with your classmates! You'll be with them for awhile, so that makes things easier for you all."

Alistair stared at Anders, shocked at his flippant dismissal of the most powerful institute in all of Thedas. Anders raised his brow once more in return, a huge, cheeky grin spread across his face.

"What, surprised to hear someone badmouth the Chantry like that? Well, I'm certainly not afraid to mock them! They're a bunch of nitwits and dunderheads, they are. All that stuff they say about magic and about Mages is bull, and I'm more than proud to call them on those lies!" Anders grinned even wider, undaunted by his bunkmate's surprise.

Alistair blinked a few times, and in the end decided to go along with it. And why not, he thought? What Anders was saying wasn't much different from what Angelica claimed, now that he thought about it. Even if it was put in a more blunt manner.

"Um, if you s-say so, Anders. I...never really listened to a lot of Chantry sermons...but, yeah, I guess you're...right? Angelica also said that magic and Mages aren't evil and...stuff. So...um, yeah."

"You bet I'm right!" Anders agreed, and quickly moved over to Alistair.

The older boy slung his arm around Alistair's shoulders, and immediately led the boy away from their bed, and out of the dormitory entirely. An impassive and imposing Templar stood watch opposite the entrance, and Alistair shrank a little under the helmeted man's oppressive gaze, but Anders wasn't intimidated, and simply led them away from the armored man. To Alistair's relief, the Templar didn't stop them or question them or anything like that! Thank the Maker...

"Now, with all that said, I have a favor to ask of you, Alistair. We have some free time now before our afternoon lessons, and there's something I want to do before Enchanter Torrin takes me back and bores me to death with his dreary monologues. And I'm gonna need your help to do that!" He declared.

"...Um, ok." Alistair shrugged slightly, though it was hard to do that with Anders' arm pressing down on him. "I'm, ah, fine to help you. I...guess."

"Good! You're a wonderful friend, Alistair! Now, here's what we're going to do..."

Anders launched into a colorful and grandiose explanation of his plan, but Alistair barely listened to any of it. He stopped paying attention to Anders altogether when he said the word 'friend'. Anders...considered him a friend? That...that was _wonderful!_

"_I have another friend now..."_ Alistair grinned long and wide, as that single thought repeated itself throughout his mind. _"I have another _friend_ now!"_

* * *

"...Are you _sure _that this is a good idea, Anders?" Alistair inquired anxiously, as he glanced around nervously. Anders gave a scoff in reply, but seeing his friend's apprehension, finally smiled reassuringly at him a moment later.

"Don't worry, it's just a harmless prank, Alistair! Besides, if we get caught, I'll take the blame." Anders winked at him, and ushered him forward, as they continued through the winding hallways that made up the quarters of the Enchanters.

"So...what's your plan again?" Alistair asked, once he realized he didn't recall any of Anders' earlier explanations. His friend scoffed again, but gave a recap all the same.

"It's very simple, Alistair. Enchanter Torrin assigned us a new workload of essays, which I think is completely out of the line. Maker's Breath, we've been writing nonstop for weeks! We should have gone back to practical applications of Magic already! That Torrin is an utter coot. But I digress. Anyway, I plan to give Torrin some payback, so to speak. I might not be able to do anything about our insane workload, but at least I can give him a piece of my mind." Anders replied, an evil glint sparkling in his eyes.

Alistair nodded, even if he didn't entirely understand Anders' qualms with this Torrin fellow. Maybe once Angelica started assigning them essays to write, he'd understand better. Alistair quickly followed up his query by asking,

"And...how are you going to do that, exactly?"

"Glad you asked!" A wide and mischievous grin spread across Anders' face, as he rubbed his hands together.

"Well, I was fiddling around with the Rock Armor spell...oh, wait. You probably don't even know what that is yet. Well, the Rock Armor spell is a piece of magic that greatly hardens the skin of the caster, making it nearly impervious to sword wounds and such. Hence the name. Anyway, I was fiddling around with that spell, and I discovered that, alongside being able to cast it on other people...the object the caster bespells doesn't necessarily have to be a person."

Alistair stared blankly at him, so Anders swiftly amended,

"I mean, I can use the spell not just on myself, but on other people. Not only that, though, I can also use the spell to harden things _other _than people's skin. Like, a book, for example. I could cast the spell on a book, and it would harden the cover and the pages, and so it'd be as impervious to harm as you or I would be, under its effects."

Alistair nodded again and after a moment's thought, ventured, "So...you're going to use the spell on something of...Enchanter Torrin's?"

"Correct!" Anders beamed. He suddenly came to a stop in front of a doorway—which was actually missing the door itself, Alistair noted—and peered inside. After confirming that no one was there, Anders stepped in, motioning for Alistair to follow him.

"Here we are! Enchanter Torrin's personal quarters. As I thought, he isn't here! Perfect. Alright, let's do this!" Anders grinned yet again, and set about studying the room, his eyes zeroing in on the shelf of books to the side of the right wall.

Alistair looked around himself, and a question occurred to him. "Why does Enchanter Torrin have his own room?"

"Huh?" Anders looked distracted for a moment, before a dissatisfied look settled over his face. "Ah, well, when you pass your Harrowing...ask your Enchanter what that is, I don't have the time for that can of worms...well, when you pass your Harrowing, you're no longer an Apprentice Magi, and so you move out of the Apprentice dormitory. You're then settled into a free room upstairs, more or less. And since Enchanter Torrin obviously isn't an Apprentice anymore, he has his own room now.

"Though it's unfair, if you ask me." Anders grumbled, crossing his arms as he glared at the room in general. "Why does everyone else but us in this forsaken Tower get their own room? Us Apprentices could use that privacy, too! Sure, you don't get a door either way...ugh, I hate the Knight-Commander...anyway, even without a door, having your own personal room is still better than sharing a single dormitory with over two dozen kids and teenagers.

"It sure would make changing clothes a lot less awkward for us, too." Anders finished, mumbling that last part to himself, a faint tinge of red coloring his cheeks. Alistair himself blushed at that unpleasant reminder; that hadn't been a fun thing to go through this morning. But at least he had been too tired, then, to really care about it...

"Anyway, we're getting off topic, and we don't have a lot of time. Now, what should I petrify...the books, maybe, but I'm not sure if I have enough juice to sustain a Rock Armor spell over the entire bookshelf, and I have no idea which specific book he might read today, if he reads anything from his private collection this afternoon..."

Anders hummed in thought, and looked around the room once more. His gaze finally settled on the bed, and he smiled maliciously.

"It might wind me a little, but...it's better than nothing! Alright. Alistair, keep watch for me, will you? I don't want Torrin popping in on us unexpectedly."

"Um, sure!" Alistair replied, eager to please. He moved back over to the doorway and peered out, keeping an eye out for Enchanter Torrin—though now that he thought of it, he had no real idea what the man even looked like...

"Ok! Finished!" Anders declared triumphantly. Alistair turned back to him, and looked at the bed. It didn't look that different...

"Doesn't really look like it's hard as a rock, eh?" Anders acknowledged. "Well, that's the beauty of it! Torrin'll never know his bed has been tampered with until it's too late! Now, let us make our escape, before he shows up!"

Anders grabbed Alistair's hand, and rushed the two of them out, his devious grin never wavering in the slightest.

At least, until they ran into an older, dark-skinned man on the way out of the Enchanter quarters.

"Do I want to know why you're up here, Anders?" Enchanter Torrin inquired, casting a suspicious gaze at his pupil. Anders coughed and laughed nervously, shrinking slightly under Torrin's sight. A heavy and awkward silence hung in the air, as Torrin tapped his foot impatiently, and Anders looked everywhere but at his teacher.

"...Well. So much for our escape." Alistair said, in an effort to break the silence.

The look Anders shot him in response was priceless, Alistair would later recall.

* * *

_I would like to give a special 'thank you' to my reviewer Agent S7. It was very kind of you to create a TvTropes page for Alistair the Mage. I sure do appreciate it! That was very generous of you. I only hope that you and other Tropers continue to add to the page!_

_For those who want to check the page out, I've left a link to it in my profile. Enjoy._

_Please do not forget to review! I always appreciate the thoughts of my readers. _


	8. All Good Things

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 6: All Good Things**

"I must admit, I am unsure if I should punish you for your prank, Anders, or commend you on your ingenuity with spells. I never realized the full potential of the Rock Armor spell. Casting it on inanimate objects is revolutionary, I daresay." Enchanter Torrin mused, as he walked around his bed, rapping a finger against the hardened material.

Anders didn't reply at all, and continued to sulk behind his teacher, as he and Alistair waited for Torrin's verdict on the matter.

Not long after Torrin had caught the two of them sneaking around, he had discovered Anders' plans. While he had been angry at first, the Enchanter soon become fascinated by Anders' application of the Elemental spell used on his bed, and was now checking it out for himself. Personally, Alistair really hoped that Torrin's enchantment with the whole situation would last; he would rather _not _get in trouble his first day here. Angelica certainly wouldn't be pleased, if she found out...

"Well, then, I think I can overlook this matter. You are still children, after all." Torrin decided, turning around to face the pranksters.

"So, I won't report this incident with Irving. However, Anders, I would like to know how you came up with this idea. In exchange for my silence, I would like you to write at an essay on how you discovered this modification of the Rock Armor spell."

Anders groaned, and buried his face in the palm of his hand, muttering under his breath, "_Another_ damned essay?"

"I expect it done by tomorrow. Now, take your friend, Anders, and go back to the Apprentice Dormitory." Torrin ordered. Anders sighed, grumbled again, but took Alistair's hand and started to lead him away from the Torrin's quarters. A gruff cough interrupted their departure, and they both looked over at Torrin.

"I believe you're forgetting something, Anders." He chided. The boy in question sighed, and dispelled what altered the bed. With that finished, the two of them immediately left.

"...I'm sorry we got caught..." Alistair finally said, as they walked away in silence. Anders sighed again, but gave him a smile all the same.

"It's not your fault, Alistair. We just got unlucky that time, is all." Anders replied with a wave of his hand. "We'll get him back next time, that's for sure. Give me another essay, will he...I will _burn _his precious books, next time I get the chance..."

Anders continued to mutter ideas and various other threats under his breath, and only stopped when they nearly ran into someone as they rounded a corner. Alistair quickly stopped with him, and opened his mouth to apologize—but halted, when he recognized the person as Angelica.

"Alistair?" The Enchanter murmured, blinking in surprise. She took stock of them both for a moment, before shrugging. "Well, I don't particularly care why you're up here, or what you're doing with our resident prankster. I was just about to go fetch you and the others, in fact. It's about time for our afternoon lessons."

"O...kay." Alistair said, feeling himself blush a little under her gaze. Angelica smiled brightly at him, and reached down to take his hand.

"Well, let's go get Jowan and Emilia, then! Oh, and nice to see you again, Anders. Please do behave around my student, will you? I don't want you rubbing off on him." Angelica gave him a half-stern, half-teasing stare. Anders merely shrugged innocently and whistled a merry tune. Angelica gave a slight chuckle.

"Right. Well, then, we must be off. Goodbye, Anders."

Alistair echoed his own quick farewell, and eagerly let Angelica tow him away.

* * *

One quick trip to the Apprentice dormitory, and another brisk walk to the library, and once again they were having a new lesson with Angelica. Though unlike last time, they were missing someone...

"Where's Talia?" Emilia was the first to ask, gentle concern etched onto her face. "Is she alright?"

"She is fine." Angelica assured with a quick smile.

"She is merely...resting, at the moment. She was tired at the end of her...discussion with Wynne, so we allowed her to nap. She will be back for tomorrow's lessons, I am sure." She added. Emilia frowned slightly, not entirely satisfied with that answer, but did not raise the issue any further. After another brief moment of silence, Angelica changed the subject.

"Now, since Talia is not here, we will not do any magical lessons, as I had planned. Instead, I think, we shall use this time to talk. About what, is up to you, dear children. We could get to know each other better, or perhaps I could answer any questions you all may have. It's your choice."

The children thought this matter over amongst themselves, brows furrowed in thought. Alistair himself eventually decided that, while he wouldn't mind knowing more about his...friends—a part of him was still amazed that they were all _friends_ now—and teacher, he _did_ have a quite a few questions about the Circle to ask.

Jowan appeared to share his sentiments, it seemed, for he spoke up in favor of the latter idea. "I don't know about the others, but I have a few questions about the Circle, and about being a Mage in general I guess, that I wouldn't mind asking."

Emilia swiftly agreed with him, and Alistair voiced his own approval. Angelica gave a nod and inquired,

"Very well, then. I shall answer your questions to the best of my ability, children. Now, who will go first?"

Alistair shared a glance with Jowan and Emilia, and shrugged, not particularly caring which of them went first. After a moment's hesitation, it was Emilia who decided to go first, and timidly voiced her question.

"I, um, I was wondering, Angelica...can I, um, send letters to my family in Kirkwall? If...that's alright with the Chantry. I would like to...stay in touch with them, if at all possible."

Angelica blinked, and for a fleeting moment, seemed to frown, which confused Alistair. But the Enchanter plastered a smile on her face, banishing away his worry. He must have been seeing things, Alistair eventually decided.

"Well, technically speaking, it is not the policy of the Chantry to allow Mages to have contact with those outside the Circle. But, considering this is your family and all, Emilia, I am sure exceptions can be made! If _any _of you wish to write to a family member or friend, then give me your letter, once it is finished. Of course, not all of you can write yet, so if any of you want to write a letter but are yet unable to do so, I shall write it for you. At any rate, once I have the finished letter in my hands, I shall see that it is delivered. "

Emilia gave a relieved smile, and gave a quick 'thank you' to her teacher. Jowan looked rather hopeful about the idea, and Alistair himself thought it good news. He didn't really have any...family to write, all things considered, but at least he could write to Teagan and Eamon, now! Or would, when he completely learned his letters. So that was one thing to look forward to, now.

"Any other questions?" Angelica inquired.

"Well..." Jowan paused for a second, and went on. "I was wondering something. I've seen the older Mages carrying staffs around. Are we going to get staffs at some point, as well?"

"That's a good question, Jowan," Angelica remarked with another smile.

"Well, I'm sad to say that you won't get a staff until you graduate from your Apprenticeship, which won't happen for a good number of years. While staffs are extremely useful in casting spells and overall centralizing your magic, my goal right now is to teach you to harness your mana without the use of a staff, since mastering staff-less magic is the first step toward becoming a full Mage. Not to mention that, once you know how to cast a spell with your hands, learning how to do so with a staff is much easier to learn." She finished.

Jowan nodded thoughtfully. A moment passed and all eyes drifted over to Alistair, as he had yet to ask a question.

Alistair blushed under their gaze, and struggled to think of something to ask. And it had to be something good, too, to impress Angelica...but what could he possibly ask?

"_Those are the Tranquil. They're...um...I'll tell you later, Alistair."_

"What's a Tranquil?" He blurted out.

Angelica's smile froze on her face, and her eyes grew wide with panic. A brief, almost suffocating silence followed in the wake of his question. Alistair started to grow concerned, but Angelica immediately recovered; she coughed, straightened in her chair, and seemed to calm down.

"My, that's an interesting question, Alistair," Angelica commented casually. "Tell me, where did you hear that word? 'Tranquil'?"

"Um..." Alistair stared down at his face as his face grew red. Even if Angelica was acting okay now, he just _knew _he had asked a bad question, somehow...

"When I was eating, um, breakfast, my bunk-mate, Anders, told me that was what those tattooed people were called. Though he didn't say what exactly they were, though." He finally mumbled. Angelica drew in a deep, long breath, and nodded.

"I see. Well, then, I'm afraid I can't quite answer that query of yours just yet. What the Tranquil are, well...it is difficult to explain, and besides, I would rather have Talia here with us, when I _do _end up explaining what the Tranquil are." Angelica stated smoothly.

"Now," The Enchanter abruptly moved on, acting as if Alistair hadn't asked that question, "Is there anything else any of you would like to know about the Circle, or about being a Mage in general? If not, I believe lunch shall be served soon. No more questions? Good. Let us be off, then."

Angelica stood up and motioned for her bewildered charges to follow her, before heading off toward the dining hall.

* * *

Lunch came and went, soon enough. After that, the day's lessons were over. From there, the Apprentices were allowed to wander the Tower as they pleased. At least until curfew, which wouldn't happen until after dinner, and that wouldn't happen either until the evening came. Thus, to occupy their free time, many Apprentices, Anders included, headed toward the Library to work on the various assignments they'd been given by their teachers. Other Apprentices also went to the Library, not to work on essays, but to read. Emilia joined the latter category when she left.

"I'll let you both know if I find any good books here; if there's anything I think you'd find interesting, I'd be willing to read it to you both." Emilia told Alistair and Jowan shyly, before quickly scampering away.

Jowan did not stay long in the dorms, either, and left not long afterward.

"I'm, um, going to take Angelica up on her offer. To dictate a letter to her. I...have some family back in Amarathine that I want to keep touch with." Jowan hurriedly explained, before he left.

And thus Alistair quickly found himself alone in the Apprentice dormitory, as everyone else dispersed throughout the Tower. Alistair would have left himself, but he did not really know what to do, or where to go, at the moment. And he was a tad bit afraid of getting lost, too.

When he next had the chance, Alistair thought of asking Anders what he did for fun around here. Because, at the moment, sitting around in the Apprentice dorm was rather boring.

Still...even if he didn't have much to do now, it had been a _very _good day at the Circle! A very good day indeed! While a part of him somewhat missed his old home at the stables of Redcliffe Castle, Alistair had a feeling that he'd definitely like it here. The Circle of Magi was shaping up to be be a great new home, so far. He could only hope that things got better from here!

"The Circle isn't that bad," Alistair decided, as he whispered to himself. "Not too bad at all. I can't wait to tell Eamon and Teagan all about it..."

* * *

_And thus ends Alistair's first day at the Circle of Magi. Yes, this is the end of his first day there. I've decided that this would be an appropriate ending point for the first day. Now onwards to the next day! Or whenever the next chapter takes place. _

_I'd like to apologize for the late arrival of this chapter. Finals week kept me from properly working on it for a good long while. But I am glad to post it now!_

_Oh, and once again I would like to give a shout-out to one of my reviewers, Artwo.D2. She has made the first official fanart for this fanfic, and has posted it on Deviantart. You have my thanks for making the absolutely adorable drawing, madam. For those interested in seeing it, I have included a link to it in my profile, right below the link to the TvTropes page. Enjoy._

_Also, now that Alistair's first day at the Circle has been completed, I shall move along the pace of this fanfic. From this point on I'll be doing timeskips, only pausing inbetween said timeskips to show certain events or moments within Alistair's life at the Circle of Magi. How long each event/moment last will vary from situation to situation; some events could have a sole chapter devoted to them, others could have three or more chapters devoted to them. _

_At any rate, this shall continue until Alistair reaches the age in which he takes his Harrowing. From there, I will stop the timeskips, and focus on what happens to Alistair during his Harrowing...and after, as well. _

_Please do not forget to review. I appreciate hearing the thoughts of my readers, no matter what they have to say. _


	9. A Most Curious Visitor

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 7: A Most Curious Visitor**

"Come on, Alistair. Wake up, now." Anders spoke, as he shook the now awakening boy. Alistair groaned, and shifted in his bed.

"Go 'way Anders. Too tired," He mumbled, scooting away from his bunk-mate. Anders rolled his eyes and simply walked over to the other side of the bed, and resumed shaking Alistair's uncooperative form.

"Get up, now. It's time for breakfast. Do you _really_ want to miss that?" Anders inquired with a smirk, as if he knew how Alistair would react to that tactic. And sure enough, the young boy fully stirred and sat up in his bed.

"Fine, fine." Alistair sighed and rubbed at his bleary eyes. "I can never really say no to that, can I?"

"Glad to know you still think with your stomach, Alistair." Anders quipped with a wide grin. Alistair merely grumbled in reply, and finally got out of bed.

Three months had passed since Alistair joined the Circle of Magi; and it had been quite the interesting fourteen weeks, to say the least! Life had changed drastically for him since his arrival, but Alistair found himself liking that change more and more as the days went by. While part of him still missed Teagan and Eamon, the brilliant wonders of the Circle more than made up for that, because now he had _friends_ and the ability to use _magic_, of all things! And that was _wonderful_!

Though if there was one thing the Circle could do without, Alistair reflected, it was those big, creepy Templars. They were always around, lurking in the halls. He always felt a little scared every time one of those Templars looked at him. He definitely wouldn't mind if the Circle got rid of those 'bucket-heads', as Anders gleefully called them.

"Coming, Alistair?"

Anders' words broke the young lad out of his reverie. Alistair blinked, and looked around, noticing the dormitory was almost entirely empty; only he and Anders remained.

"Oh, um, right. Sorry." Alistair flushed a little, but quickly made his way out with his bunk-mate.

Soon enough, they got to the dining hall with the other Mages, and were quite ready to eat, but some sort commotion seemed to be halting that process. A good-sized crowd stood near the center of the hall, all of them chatting with great liveliness, as they surrounded...someone or something. Who, Alistair couldn't tell; a good majority of those in the crowd very much, much taller than him, to his irritation.

"What's going on? I can't see anything!" He complained.

"Beats me," Anders shrugged, unable to see much either, though a curious glint was still evident in his gaze. "I guess we must have some sort of important guest, or something. Let's go see who it is!"

Anders dashed toward the crowd, and after a hesitant pause, Alistair followed as well. As they got closer, Alistair was able to make out some of what the animated Mages were saying:

"_...Commander of the Grey, here in the Fereldan Circle itself! I never thought I'd see the day..."_

"_...Is he here to recruit, maybe? I really hope so. They say that the Grey Wardens don't discriminate against Mages..."_

"_...Huh. Somehow, I thought he'd be taller..."_

Then, at that moment, the crowd parted, and the stern and chiding voice of First Enchanter Irving became audible over the incessant noise of the onlookers.

"Settle down, now! Settle down! I am sure you are all very curious about our guest, but there can be a time for questions later. For now, we do have a breakfast to eat."

Mollified, the sea of Mages dispersed and took their seats back at the tables. Anders and Alistair quickly sat down themselves, and they both finally got a good look at just who was causing all this ruckus.

An older, very distinguished looking man in armor stood next to the First Enchanter. Alistair wondered who he was; some sort of Templar, maybe, given the armor? No, wait, he couldn't be. Templars were more scary and menacing than anything else. And that guy wasn't either of those. So who was he, then?

"As I was saying," Irving stated, gestured to the man beside him, and incidentally proved Alistair with the answer he was looking for.

"This is Warden-Commander Duncan. He has honored the Circle with a visit, and while he is here we shall treat him as a respected guest. I am sure many of you have questions for him, but that can wait for later. For now, I imagine the Commander wishes to eat his breakfast in peace."

The man now identified as Duncan smiled graciously at the First Enchanter, and gave a slight bow to him and the people before him. "Thank you for having me here, First Enchanter. I look forward to my stay here. And as my gracious host said, I will be willing to answer any and all questions after breakfast; and more, perhaps."

With that said, the two men walked over to the Senior Enchanter's table, and sat down. Breakfast was served shortly thereafter, but many in the dining hall found it difficult to focus on their food, Alistair himself included. He kept taking peeks over at the mysterious new visitor to the Circle, and wondered why he was causing such a stir.

"Hey, Anders? What's a Warden-Commander?" Alistair inquired, gently nudging his friend's shoulder.

"Hm?" Anders paused in his conversation with the Apprentice beside him, and turned to face Alistair.

"Ah, he's the Commander of the Fereldan Grey Wardens, I believe. You know, that order of Knights and Mages and whatever else they can find that fight the Darkspawn! Or so the Chantry says, I think. I rarely trust their word on these sorts of things, but I think they got it right for once, concerning the Wardens. At any rate, I'm really eager to talk to the Commander, if I get the chance. I hear the Grey Wardens employ Mages all the time, and there are no Templars around, to boot! I'd definitely love to become a Grey Warden, if all that's true. It'd be a whole lot better than staying in this boring place the rest of my life." Anders grinned at him, and turned back to the Apprentice he'd been talking to before.

"Oh, right, _those _Grey Wardens." Alistair muttered to himself, as certain memories came to him. Right. He'd heard about them before from the Revered Mother at Redcliffe, though not a whole lot. Teagan had said more about the Grey Wardens himself, if he remembered correctly. In fact, some of his favorite stories Teagan told him had been about the valiant and just Grey Wardens, Alistair remembered fondly.

Well, this was certainly great, then! Alistair rather hoped that he'd get the chance to talk to Duncan too. It'd be wicked awesome to talk to an actual Grey Warden!

Breakfast continued for some time, and when the meal came to its end, Commander Duncan stood up from the Senior Enchanter's table, and looked around the room. His gaze seemed to linger on Alistair himself for a moment, but before he could fully notice it, Duncan was already looking at someone else. Alistair blinked, wondering if he hadn't just been seeing things.

"It is an honor to be here at the Fereldan Circle of Magi, and I thank you all for allowing me to stay in your humble abode. I have come here for many reasons, primary to go through the vast wealth of knowledge in the Circle library, but there is another reason, as well. While there is no Blight going on now, the Grey Wardens must stay ever-vigilant. Thus, I have come here to recruit a Mage into the Grey Wardens of Fereldan!" Duncan proclaimed, flourishing his arms in a dramatic manner.

That declaration caused a great deal of excitement within the Mages present, and the distant volume of whispers grew into a thunderous roar, as many a Mage eagerly began to bombard Commander Duncan with questions. Irving stood at that moment, and raised his hands for silence. Reluctantly, the other Mages grew dim and quiet.

The First Enchanter cleared his throat, and swiftly added, "Joining the Grey Wardens is an honorable path, and I thank the Warden-Commander for wanting to recruit here, at the Circle. Now, before the more impulsive of you volunteer in droves to join the Grey Wardens, I must make it known that the Warden-Commander is only able to recruit a single Mage here, at the moment, per our agreement. So keep in mind, out of those of you who wish to volunteer to become a Warden, only one of you will be accepted by the Commander."

"And for those who are still willing to volunteer to join the Grey, I must caution you all." Duncan warned, his voice grave and dark. "Becoming a Grey Warden is no easy matter. We dedicate our lives to fighting the constant threat of the Darkspawn. If you do not have the stomach for such things, then I am afraid the Wardens will not be able to accept you. Also, think long and hard about this. Becoming one of the Grey is a life-changing decision, and once you become a Grey Warden, so you shall remain for the rest of your days."

Irving nodded, and added one last thing. "Also, I am afraid only Mages who have passed their Harrowing will be able to volunteer to become a Grey Warden. Thus, no candidates among the Apprentices will be accepted."

And with that, breakfast officially came to an end. Duncan swiftly left the hall with the First Enchanter, amid the flurry of murmurs amongst the people of Kinloch Hold.

* * *

A short period later, and it was time for the morning magical lessons. Angelica promptly arrived to pick up her students, and they ventured away from the dormitory, and over toward the library, the place where most of their lessons had taken place thus far, as Alistair and his friends learned more and more about the intricacies of being a Mage.

"Considering what just happened in the dining hall," Angelica remarked, as they took a seat at a familiar part within the library, "I am not even going to attempt to give you all a lesson today. I have no doubt you're all too wound up by what the Commander said. Thus, I will be willing to answer any questions you have about the Grey Wardens."

Alistair grinned at his teacher when she said that, and Talia, Emilia, and Jowan were also quick to give their own joyous approval. This was great, Alistair thought! He'd _love _to learn more about the Wardens; Teagan would be _so jealous_ when he wrote to him about this!

"I am glad to see you all enjoy my lessons so much," Angelica lamented with a shake of her head, but the her own radiant smile made Alistair doubt she was serious. "Now, who has the first question?"

Alistair blinked, and wondered what he could ask. Nothing honestly came to mind at the moment. Huh. That was gonna be a problem.

As he pondered the matter, Emilia seemed to have no such trouble thinking up a question herself, for her hand shot up immediately. Angelica smiled and nodded at her, and the only non-Fereldan in the room eagerly asked, "Is it true the Grey Wardens have Griffons? They're always described as riding Griffons into battle, in all the legends!"

Angelica chuckled, and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. At least, not anymore. Griffons have been extinct for ages, my dear."

"...Oh," Emilia pouted a moment later, as she looked down in dejection.

Angelica went on, however. "Still...from what I have read, Griffons were majestic and mystical creatures. You won't be able to ever see one in real life, Emilia, but I can point you to a few informative books about Griffons, if you wish. It's a poor substitution for the real thing, I know, but I think you'll enjoy it."

That brightened her up considerably, and Emilia gave the Enchanter a vigorous nod. "Sure! I'd love that, Angelica!"

"Good," Angelica happily replied. The matter settled, the Enchanter turned her attention to whoever the next questioner would be.

After a brief pause, Jowan decided to go next and raised his hand, inquiring, "Is there a reason the Warden-Commander isn't recruiting Apprentce Magi as potential candidates?"

"Well," Angelica began, giving her student an apologetic look, "I honestly would love nothing more than to see the four of you leave the Circle forever, and become one of the Grey. Unfortunately, that can't happen at this time. The Commander is here to recruit an experienced Mage into the Fereldan Wardens, and I'm afraid none of you are at that level yet. You all have a good many years left before you reach that capacity."

Jowan sighed at that. "Well, I suppose that makes sense. I just hope Duncan comes back when we become full Magi!"

"As do I," Angelica agreed, and turned her gaze to Talia and Alistair. Alistair shrugged, still unsure of what to ask.

Sweet little Talia bought him some time, however, when she timidly raised her voice: "U-Um, do Grey Wardens m-mind...Elves?"

"Oh, not at all, Talia! The Grey Wardens are very accepting of all Elvenkind," Angelica was quick to reassure, gently smiling at the young girl. "In fact, one of the Blights was ended by one of our own kind! An Elven Grey Warden by the name of Garahel, I believe. At any rate, the Grey Wardens take on anyone they can find, be they Human, Elf, Dwarf, or Magi."

"Oh. That's g-good to k-know." Talia gave a shy nod, and appeared to take comfort in what her teacher said.

Moving on down, Angelica looked over at Alistair once more, curious if he had developed a question yet. Alistair continued to think of something smart or good to ask, something he'd hope might impress Angelica, but nothing really came to mind. So in the end, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"Can we visit the, ah, Commander?"

"Of course! In fact..." Angelica looked past them, and beamed at him. "You can do that now. If the Warden-Commander doesn't mind."

Alistair immediately craned his head to see what she had spotted. Over toward the entrance to the library, he saw the towering figure of Duncan nearby, who was browsing through some books.

Angelica smirked and asked, "Shall we go see if he has the time to talk?"

The words had barely left her mouth before Alistair, Jowan, Emilia, and Talia jumped out of their seats and rushed toward him.

* * *

By the end of their impromptu question-and-answer session with a bemused Duncan, Alistair felt elated. Talking to an actual Warden had been _unbelievable_, and he told some _great_ stories about the Wardens! They all ended up talking to Duncan for the rest of the late-morning, and only cease when Angelica let them know that lunch was approaching. And even then, they were reluctant to stop.

"I promise you all that, for the rest of my stay here, I will answer any more questions you can think up, should you seek me out again." Duncan assured.

That convinced them all, in the end, and Alistair started to leave with Angelica and his friends to go eat. That plan got interrupted when the Commander spoke up.

"Excuse me, Enchanter Angelica. Might I have a word with Alistair, for a minute? I promise it will not be long."

Angelica gave him a quizzical stare, hesitating before she gave her consent. Shooting one last look at the both of them, she escorted her other students out of the library.

Alistair looked up at the Commander, wondering what he was going to ask. Ooh! Maybe he wanted him to join the Wardens, despite the fact he was an Apprentice? Well, that was probably unlikely, but a boy could dream.

Duncan cleared his throat, and reached into his pocket. He brought out several folded pieces of parchment, and offered it to him. Alistair grabbed it.

"This...will no doubt come as a surprise, Alistair, but I came here for another reason. I was given a...request, by an old friend of mine. That friend asked me to deliver a letter to you. When you have the time, I would like you to read it. After you have finished reading, if you have a reply, I will accept it and bring it with me to this...friend when I leave. You will only have three days to make that reply, however. I plan to leave the Circle on the fourth day. Well, until then, I do hope you have a good day Alistair." Duncan bowed to him, and abruptly walked away.

Alistair watched his retreating form in surprise. He looked down at the letter, and slowly unfolded it. He had learned his letters under Angelica's tutelage weeks ago, so he didn't have any difficulty in reading it.

Alistair leafed through the parchments, wondering who on earth would want to write a letter to him, besides Teagan and Eamon; and this definitely wasn't a letter from either of them, otherwise Angelica would have given it to him. He came to the last sheet of parchment, and his eyes wandered down to the bottom. His heart stopped as he took in the very last line.

_Ever yours,_

_Your Father, M._

* * *

_Merry Christmas to all my great readers, and to all a Good Night._


	10. Players of Destiny

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Interlude: Players of Destiny**

_Dear Alistair,_

_Hello. This is your father, Alistair. I know I haven't written to you before, or even visited you, but...I just had to say..._

_I'm sorry._

_That...is all I can say, really. I've been a horrible father to you, Alistair, and I'm sorry about that. I am truly sorry about how I have shunned you._

_There are many things that I have done in my life, that I regret, and I do believe that handing you off to my brother-in-law has been one of the greatest mistakes that I have ever made. You were my son, Alistair; I should have done better for you. My brother promised to take care of you, I know, and I have no doubt that he's been a great guardian for you, Alistair. He was always so positive about you in his letters, and he always said how he loved you like a son. Still, I can't help but feel that perhaps..there was another way. Maybe a good friend of mine could have taken you in, instead...maybe he would have been a better guardian for you..._

_But I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? I suppose you're wondering why you're hearing from me at all. It wouldn't surprise me if my brother had told you that contact with me wouldn't...end well, for any of us. And I wouldn't blame him for telling you that. Still..._

_I suppose I couldn't help myself. No one knows I'm writing this letter, not even...my best friend. I just couldn't let him, or your guardian, or anyone else talk me out of this. I had to do this. There...was no other thing I could do, really. _

_In the end, I could only let my good friend Duncan know; I can trust him, I know I can. He's a good man, Alistair. You can trust him, too. He won't let anyone know of our...communications. He'd rather die than betray either of us, you have my word on that. _

_Anyway, I'm still not telling you why I'm writing this letter, aren't I? I suppose I'm just trying to stall for more time, but...you deserve to know, my son. It's important. _

_Your guardian recently informed me that you were...a Mage, Alistair. And that you've been taken to the Fereldan Circle of Magi for training. I'm not sure how to feel about that, honestly. It's...quite a lot to take in. All I can think right now is that you have more in common with your mother than I thought you did. And perhaps, that is not such a bad thing..._

_At any rate, I know this must be a tough time for you, Alistair. You must miss your guardian terribly. You must miss Redcliffe, as well. Being stuck in Kinloch Hold is no doubt a harsh adjustment for you to make, Alistair. But I'm confident you can do it. Many within our family have faced hardships before, but we've always persevered. And I'm confident you will, as well. It's in our blood, and even if you have been told to...ignore your heritage, the fact is that you are still my son, and still a member of my family._

_Sorry. I shall haven't really given you a real explanation yet, have I? Sorry. I tend to...ramble. It's a nervous habit of mine. I really need to break it, one of these days. _

_I know that I have never sought you out before, Alistair. And I deeply regret that. Just because you aren't...acknowledged as one of my children, you are _still _my son. I should have realized that a long, long time ago. But I have now, at least. That's no real consolation, I know, but...maybe one day I'll be able to make up for it. _

_And I'm still rambling, aren't I? Alright, I'll cut to the chase, then. I...I want to reconnect with you, Alistair. I want to get to know you. You are my son, and I want to start treating you that way. In an ideal world, I'd send for you to come to Denerim straight away. But I'm afraid that's not possible, for a number of reasons. _

_Still, I won't allow that to hinder me. If we can't meet in person, then I'll simply have to settle for writing to you. If...that's alright with you, of course. Ultimately, this is _your _decision, Alistair. You can just burn this letter after you read it, if you want. I'd understand. I just want to let you know, Alistair, that...well, that I care for you. And that I want to truly become your father. If you'll allow me. _

_This can't be an easy decision for you, and I'm sorry to put you under such a burden. You must have a good amount of stress to deal with already, since you arrived at the Circle. But I'm sure you can handle it. _

_When you have reached a decision, you can give Duncan your reply. You don't even have to write me a letter, if it's going to be a...one-word answer. Just...whatever you decide, give your reply to Duncan before he leaves the Circle. _

_That's it for now, then. Whether or not I end up hearing from you, Alistair, I just want you to know that I love you, and that I'm sorry for shunning you. It was a mistake, and I'd be more than happy to rectify that now. If you want me to. _

_Goodbye, Alistair. I await your reply, whatever it may be. May the Maker watch over you, my son._

_Ever yours,_

_Your Father, M._

* * *

King Maric Theirin sighed, and put down his quill.

So it was done. After many false starts and rejected drafts, his letter to Alistair was complete, at last. And thus, a new chapter in his life could begin. Or at least, he hoped so.

Maric never really dreamed an opportunity like this would ever present itself. Long ago, he had accepted that cutting all ties with his bastard child would be for the best, so that Orlesian agents wouldn't catch wind of him, so that Cailan's claim to the throne couldn't be challenged, and most importantly, so the memory of dear Rowan wouldn't be tarnished.

But now...things were different. Very, very different. Alistair was a _Mage_ now. And that changed _everything_.

Now...there was no chance of Alistair being any threat to his son. True, there was still the dangers of Orlais finding out about him, or of the Landsmeet being informed of him, but Maric knew there was little chance of that ever happening. Eamon would never allow _that _to happen to his nephew.

At any rate, Alistair had been revealed to be a Mage, and now ignoring him wasn't his only option.

Ironically enough, Alistair was the safest and freest he would ever be in this world, within that gilded cage of Kinloch Hold. Since he was now a Mage, any claim his bastard child once had to the throne of Fereldan was now null and void, which meant that Alistair wasn't a threat to Cailan at all, anymore. Which meant that Maric could finally correct a deep wrong he had committed by shunning that poor boy.

It was interesting, sometimes, just how strange this world of theirs worked. But Maric wasn't about to look a gift-horse in the mouth; at least he was now able to start exchanges with his boy!

True, he still wasn't able to acknowledge Alistair as his own son. No, that was still impossible for a variety of reasons, and it would be political suicide to do such a thing now, given the boy's newfound abilities. Unfortunate, but there was still a silver lining in this situation.

At least they could talk now; if just in secret.

Sure, it was terrible that Alistair would be subjected to the laws of the Chantry and the Templars...Maric didn't like that fact at all. Considering how chummy the Chantry had been with Orlais invading and occupying Fereldan for well over a century, Maric was no fan of them. Individual priests, he certainly liked better and could tolerate. But the Chantry as a whole? Fereldan could hardly trust them any more than it trusted Orlais.

And the Templars weren't much better. Maric shuddered to think of such lumbering brutes watching over his son. Still, it could be worse. And at any rate, he would keep a close eye on all the reports the Knight-Commander of the Fereldan Circle sent to the Grand Cleric. If those Templars did _anything _to his son...bastard or not...there would be _hell_ to pay.

Again, though, Alistair being a Mage opened up many new opportunities for the both of them! Not only could they reconnect as father and son—Maric knew it was possible that Alistair might reject him, after all these years of silence, but he tried not to think too much about that potential outcome—but when Alistair was of age, he could even come to Denerim to serve as Court Mage! Now _that _would be wonderful.

And...it was naïve to believe, too. Even if he was faced with the constant threat of Chantry supervision and Templar zealousness in the Circle, at least Alistair had a chance at safety there. In Denerim...not so much. One would only have to look at the boy to notice a resemblance between him and Cailan, no doubt, and if the wrong people connected the dots...

...Well, Maric tried not to think of that too much, either. After all, that _was _the worst case scenario. Perhaps if they were lucky, and if they were careful enough, such an ugly event would not come to pass.

Still, he was getting ahead of himself. At this point, it was all up to Alistair. He had finished the letter; all that needed to be done now was send it to him, and wait for a reply.

* * *

A short time later, and the deed was done. The letter to Alistair was safe and sound with Duncan, and the Warden-Commander was now riding off to the Fereldan Circle. It would take some time before Duncan came back with any reply from his son, but Maric was more than willing to wait. Oddly enough, it wouldn't be the first time he waited for a nerve-wracking reply from an estranged family member.

The King of Fereldan retreated back to his private study in the palace, but stopped short when he saw that someone was already in the room.

"And Loghain's Puppet-King arrives at last. Good; I was tiring of waiting for you." Declared a voice that Maric had long forgotten. The King gave her a cautious, measuring look before slowly closing the door behind him.

"Flemeth. What an unexpected...surprise."

The Witch of the Wilds looked far different since he had last seen her; now, she no longer looked like the haggard old woman he had meet long ago. She was sporting a strange and peculiar set of armor, and had an overall hawkish and war-like appearance. If he wasn't already alarmed by her visit, her new looks would certainly have concerned him.

"Well, I do try to surprise those around me. Go beyond the expectations, as it were. Ah, but where are my manners? It is most good to see you again, my dear Puppet-King. It has been a long, long time since we last met. You have changed a great deal, I see; no longer are you that simple bumpkin I met in the Wilds. Now you are a simple bumpkin that is a _King_!" Flemeth cackled, and Maric fought not to shiver in response.

Flemeth, laughing. That...wasn't a good sign.

"What are you doing here?" He asked at length, as he carefully edged back to the door. Summoning the palace guardsmen was just one swift shout away...

"_What _am I doing here? Hm, now isn't that an interesting question? What are we _all _doing here, I wonder? Many do not know of their purpose in life; just _what _are we all doing here in this world? No doubt that is a question that has hounded many a scholar over the centuries." Flemeth gave a vicious smile and took a step toward him, causing Maric to reached behind him and curl a hand over the door knob.

"But that is not what you meant to ask, was it?" Flemeth continued, "You are wondering what the purpose of this impromptu visit is. Well, I shall tell you, my dear Puppet-King. Do you remember what I had you promise me long ago, in the Wilds?"

Maric blinked, and gave a hesitant nod. "Yes...I do, Flemeth. You...you asked me to give my third-born child, when I conceived one, to the Grey Wardens, when he became of age."

"Good! The Puppet-King seems to remember the important things, at least." Flemeth chuckled again, and she stared into his eyes. "Yes, that was the promise. I am merely here to remind you of it, least you had forgotten about it. But I am glad that I was proven wrong."

Maric gave the Witch a puzzled look, and his grip on the knob slackened. "I...do not understand. I...I have no third child, Flemeth. There is only Cailan and...and Alistair. They're the only children I have."

"Oh, the Puppet-King does not know? Oh my, he doesn't! Now isn't that amusing! Has the Puppet-King a poor memory of all the whores he has slept with? You _do_ have a third child, Maric." Flemeth laughed shrilly, and sneered at him.

"W-What..." Maric lost all train of thought, and stared at the Witch of the Wilds in shock.

Flemeth chuckled once more, and shook her head. "Oh yes, you do, my Puppet-King. Before Alistair, and after Cailan, you had another child. One you do not know about, apparently! Well, I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. The destiny of this second child is largely uneventful. Even if he dies an untimely death, the part he plays in events yet to come can be easily fulfilled by another."

Maric took in short, shaky breaths, and started to feel light-headed. He grasped for something to say, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind,

"Why...why do you want Alistair to become a Grey Warden?"

"Why?" Flemeth echoed with a smile. She stepped closer to the King, and peered into his face.

"The lands of Thedas are coming closer and closer to world-changing events, and Alistair is the key to it all. As a Grey Warden, Alistair will play a major role in it all. His is a life that will shake the very foundations of Thedas. He shall be a force not seen since Andraste herself. And I intend to see that he fulfill his coming destiny whatever the cost; and Alistair becoming a Grey Warden is pivotal to _all _of this." Flemeth stated, all traces of humor and mischief gone from her voice. She peered deep into his eyes as she spoke, and Maric felt like he was staring back into the very Void itself.

Abruptly, Flemeth moved away from him and turned, walking over to a nearby bookcase.

"That is why Alistair must become a Grey Warden, my dear Puppet-King. That is why I allowed you to live in the Wilds, as well."

Maric lurched forward and quickly balanced himself against a nearby desk. This...this was becoming far too much for him. His head was pounding against all these revelations, of how Alistair was some sort of Destiny Child, and how _he had another son that he didn't even _know _about—_

"When the boy becomes of age, you will send the Warden-Commander after him, once more. I am sure your dear, reliable Duncan will be more than happy to recruit him; if not for you, then as a favor to dear Fiona. Until then, please do remember our promise. You have done your part in remembering it so far; it would be a great shame if your memory failed you now." Flemeth turned back to him and smirked, striding to him yet again.

Maric brought a hand to sooth his raging head-ache, his eyes shut tight as he tried to digest all this incredible information.

"...Very well. I will...stay true to our bargain, Flemeth. I suppose I don't have a choice, do I? I...can I ask...will you hurt Alistair with this promise? Is he going to suffer because..."

Maric trailed off, and looked over to the Witch, but discovered she was no longer there. His eyes drifted over to the door, which was now ajar. With a weary sigh, the King shuffled over to a nearby chair and all but collapsed onto it.

"Oh, Alistair...what have I done?"

* * *

_I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. I took a bit of a break before getting started on this, but it's up now, at least._

_Also, I know that the contents of Flemeth's promise to Maric was further expanded on in the Silent Grove comic, or whatever it's called. But for the purposes of the plot, I will not have the events of that EU material added into the canon of this fanfic. _

_Thank you all for reading, and I hope you all review! I appreciate the thoughts of my readers, good or bad._


	11. Of Kings and Their Bastards

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it._

* * *

**Chapter 8: Of Kings and Their Bastards**

"Something's bothering you, Alistair."

Alistair blinked, brought out of his thoughts. He looked over at Anders, who bore an unusually serious expression on his face.

"Something's bothering you," He repeated firmly, "You've been acting weird since yesterday. What's wrong, Alistair?"

"N-Nothing!" The younger boy immediately denied, as a red tinge overtook his face. "Nothing at all, Anders. I, um, just...have a lot on my mind. That's all."

"Really?" Anders inquired skeptically, an eyebrow raised. Alistair looked away, but nodded all the same. Anders scrutinized him for another moment before heaving a sigh.

"Fine, fine. If you don't want to talk about it, that's your decision. I don't want to pry." Anders sighed again and went back to eating his food.

Alistair nodded again, and started eating again himself. It didn't take long for his thoughts to drift to other matters, though...

Anders was right to be worried; he had been out of it since yesterday afternoon, ever since Duncan had given him that letter.

That letter...because of a single letter, Alistair's entire world was overturned; moreso than it had ever been when he learned that he was a Mage, a mere three months ago.

Hearing from his father for the first time in his life...it was still hard to believe that it had actually happened.

But it had, and now Alistair had a choice before him; a choice he had been contemplating all of yesterday, and even now was still thinking over.

Under the table Alistair clenched a fist, as a powerful whirlwind of emotions roiled within him. Alistair took a few calming breaths between bites of food, but his efforts to bring some semblance of peace to himself failed yet again, much like it had the day before.

"_It isn't fair," _He thought, not for the first time since he had read the letter, _"It's not fair! Eamon...he always told me that I could never have any contact with my father at all, and now...now..."_

And now, out of the blue, his father the King suddenly wanted to talk with his bastard son. That fact, more than anything, was what really made him angry. Sure, a part of him was still thrilled that Maric wanted to do this in the first place; a part of him still held some joy about the whole situation. But that voice within him was so very small, and so very weak, compared to the voice inside of him that raged against the whole thing.

"_He never visited me at all. And he never asked me to come to Denerim, either." _

Alistair knew that there was a good reason for that hurtful fact, of course; he was a bastard, and Eamon had always warned him that a great deal of trouble would come about if he ever tried to contact his father, or vice versa. Eamon had always done his best to comfort him about the whole nasty business, too, and had told him that it was all for the best...

But even so, Alistair had always yearned to hear from his father. He had always wanted to have a loving father, like the other boys at the Redcliffe stable had. And now...well, it was a dream come true, wasn't it? So...why was he so angry? Why wasn't he more happy about this than he was?

"_...He's only writing me now because I'm a Mage. That's it. Not because he loves me. But because I'm a Mage" _

He knew that Maric said that he regretted all of his previous actions, and truly did love him, and just wanted to start a new connection with him, now that the circumstances of their forced silence had changed. But...didn't that imply that his father was doing all of this just because he was a Mage, now? That, if he _hadn't _been born with magical abilities, that he'd never have sent him a letter now, or any time at all? That if Alistair himself hadn't changed, then Maric wouldn't have bothered with giving him the time of day?

Alistair didn't want to believe it. He honestly didn't want to accept that as the truth. Besides, it didn't make sense. If...if Maric hadn't cared for him at all, then why would him being a Mage change any of that? If...if his father chose to contact him now, it must mean that he loved him, after all. Right? And if him being a Mage finally made his father reach out to him, well...what was the harm in that?

_"I should be happy about this," _Alistair thought with a sigh. _"I really should be happy about this; I always wanted this when I was younger. But why am I so angry about this now, then?"_

In all honesty, he was probably being too paranoid about all this. After all, he could have a father, for once in his life, if he said yes to Maric's offer! He could finally have a parent! What wasn't there to like about this offer? Things could finally change for the better for him, even moreso than it already had at the Circle! Life could become truly _wonderful_ for him, with Maric in his life! He was sure of that!

So...then why...why...

Why did he want to say no?

* * *

Breakfast passed by in a blur, and soon enough it came time for that day's morning lessons with Enchanter Angelica. Alistair was still bothered by the letter, to say the least, but he vowed to put that behind him for the time being. He knew Angelica was already concerned about him, given how distracted he had been yesterday during their afternoon lesson. He really didn't want to make her even more worried.

His decision made, Alistair straightened up in his seat, and intently listened to Angelica as she started their lesson.

"Healing magic," She intoned, "Is a very important aspect of our abilities, one that could very well save your life, or the life of another! Healing is also very important for a Mage to know and master, as it can help you in getting accepted into a very powerful position; for example, becoming the Court Mage of the Fereldan Monarchy! Indeed, being an adept at Healing would be a big factor in us magic-users getting accepted as any noble's Court Mage."

Angelica paused, and added, "There are many different applications for Healing magic, of course, but for today we'll focus on a more simple layer of it: sowing back up cut skin. Now, for my demonstration, can I have a volunteer?"

She let that sink in for a moment. Alistair exchanged an uneasy glance with Talia, not liking the idea at all. But before they could raise any fuss about it...

"I thought so. That is why I shall volunteer myself." The Enchanter stated with a slight smirk, gaining relieved sighs from her students. After a slight chuckle, she raised her hand so that they could all see it. She then reached into the satchel slung over her chair, and brought out a small knife from it. Very carefully, she sliced a small cut on her index finger, and let it bleed for a moment, before casting a simple Healing spell on it, stopping the bleeding altogether and sowing the skin back up.

Making sure she still had their attention, Angelica continued her speech,

"Did everyone see that? Good. Now, it's your turn! I will prick my finger again so that each one of you can try to Heal it. Everyone understand?"

They all nodded, and Angelica proceeded to make another shallow cut on her finger, holding it out for her students to focus on.

Jowan went first, and after a brief struggle with his magic, managed to do it. Sort of. The cut didn't heal all the way, but Angelica swiftly assured him that it was a good try.

Emilia gave it a go, and fully succeeded in her attempt. Talia volunteered next, and also managed to succeed. Then it was Alistair's turn; focusing on Angelica's finger, he attempted to gather the surging magic within him, and...

...And nothing happened. Alistair blinked in confusion, and tried again. Still, it didn't work. So he tried once more, trying to draw even more magic into the spell. And...still, nothing. Absolutely nothing happened.

What in the world was going on?

"Is something wrong, Alistair?"

Angelica's voice brought him out of his concentration, and Alistair looked up at her with a frown.

"I...don't know." He confessed, his brow furrowed in confusion. "I...my, um, magic isn't working right..."

"It isn't?" Angelica tilted her head, and gave him a considering look. "Odd..."

Alistair didn't know what to say, so he just shrugged in response. His face started to redden, and he looked down at the floor in a mixture of embarrassment and anger. This...hadn't happened to him before! His magic had always worked fine; if anything, it always leaped to his command. So what was wrong with him now? Why was it acting up now?

After a moment still silence, Angelica finally spoke again.

"Well, we can talk about that later, Alistair." The Enchanter decided. "Now that we've seen the practical usage of a Healing spell, can anyone tell me how else the spell could be applied?"

* * *

After another hour of discussion and application—the latter of which Alistair didn't succeed in doing _at all_, much to his growing frustration—their morning lesson came to an end. Angelica dismissed them all for lunch, though she asked him to stay behind for a moment, before he himself could leave.

Alistair remained in his chair as Angelica stared at him. After a prolonged silence, she inquired,

"Is everything alright with you, Alistair?"

"_No," _Was what immediately came to his mind, but Alistair bit that response down. This...this deal with the letter from his father, it was his problem alone to sort out, so he certainly didn't want to tell Angelica about it. He really didn't want to bother her with it, either.

And even if he did want to tell her, it wouldn't be a smart idea. Eamon had always warned him against telling others about his situation...even if it was someone who he could trust, like Angelica, Alistair simply couldn't let her know about this.

So it was with a heavy heart that Alistair merely shrugged and replied, "Not really, Angelica. Things are...fine, I guess."

That...wasn't exactly a lie. But not the truth, either...

However, it seemed he was a bad liar, as the Enchanter pursed her lips and frowned at him, obviously not satisfied with his answer. Alistair shied under her gaze, already feeling the guilt well up within him about lying to _Angelica_, of all people. Ugh! Even if it was for a good reason, he felt _horrible! _Angelica was so nice and kind to him...Alistair hated lying to her...

She let him squirm under her gaze a minute longer, and spoke out once more.

"Are you sure, Alistair? You were having trouble with your magic earlier, after all. You see, the mood of the Mage often affects how the spell they cast turns out; for instance, if I was very angry about something and tried to cast a powerful spell, my emotions could interfere with my control, and thus lessen the power behind my spell. And in your case, being so young and all, a bad mood could easily hamper your ability to cast even a simple spell."

Alistair remained silent in the face of that stunning fact, completely unsure of what to say now. After seeing that he wouldn't comment about that, Angelica asked once more,

"Is everything alright, Alistair? Are you _sure _something isn't bothering you?"

"No. I'm...I'm fine, Angelica. Really." To prove his point, Alistair looked up and smiled at her, though it came out very strained and very fake. His teacher sighed in reply, and shook her head.

"Very well. You're dismissed. Just know...if there _is _something bothering you Alistair, I hope you aren't afraid to tell me. I'm your teacher and your friend, Alistair. I'm only here to help."

Alistair nodded, and swiftly made his exit from the library. As he walked away, another wave of anger overtook him.

Maker...that _stupid_ letter...it made him lie to Angelica _and _it was even affecting his ability to use magic! It was bringing him _nothing _but trouble to him at this point! Ugh!

"I need to do something about this," Alistair finally mumbled to himself. He couldn't let this situation get any more out of hand than it already had. Alistair didn't know if he was ready yet to commit to a possible decision to his father's offer, but he needed to do _something _about this!

Maybe...he could at least tell someone about his feelings! Alistair considered that, and started to like the idea more and more. Yes, that might just work. That way he could get it all of his chest, and finally think about the matter with a clear head! That would make everything better, for sure!

...But _who_ could he talk to about this? Alistair couldn't tell _anyone _about this, after all. It was...too personal, and too dangerous to let any of his friends know about this. After all, if he couldn't tell _Angelica _about this, then he certainly couldn't tell Anders, Jowan, Talia, or Emilia about this. Who, then, could he tell? Who on earth could help him?

"...Duncan could," Alistair realized with a start, pausing mid-step. Yes, that could work...

* * *

A few quick questions to the some of the older Apprentices later, and Alistair was heading over to the guest room that had been provided for Duncan. It was after lunch now, and Alistair had some free time left before his afternoon lessons began; and he was determined to use that time to talk with Duncan. He was the only person in the Tower that he could come to about the letter; the only one he could trust with this...personal information.

Alistair just hoped that Duncan would actually be able to help him.

Soon enough he reached the room that Duncan was staying in, though he paused before it, surprised to see an actual door before him. Huh. He'd become so used to all the rooms of the Circle being door-less, that it was shocking for him to see one that actually _did_ have a door. Well. That was something.

Brushing that train of thought away for the moment, Alistair knocked lightly upon the door. He heard a muffled reply to come in, and so he entered.

The room appeared much like Enchanter Torrin's quarters had looked, what with having a bookshelf on one end of the room, a writing desk at the other, and a bed toward the center. He didn't focus on those observations for long, though, and he quickly zeroed in on his target.

After a hesitant start, Alistair asked, "Um, Mister Duncan? Can I...can I talk to you?"

The Warden-Commander looked up from the book he was reading at the writing desk, and he smiled kindly at him. "Of course, Alistair. Take a seat on the bed."

The young boy nodded, and quickly trotted over, and planted himself at the edge of Duncan's bed. Duncan, who was sitting at a nearby desk, turned his chair to face him.

"This is about the...letter I gave you, I presume?" Duncan asked. Alistair gave a hesitant nod, before explaining,

"Um...I was, ah, wondering something, Sir. Could I, um, talk to you about it?"

Duncan gave a curt nod, and Alistair wondered just what to say first. In the end, he settled with,

"Does...does my father really love me, Sir?"

Duncan straightened up at those words, and he swiftly closed the book in his hands, setting it down at the desk.

"Yes, Alistair." The Warden-Commander eventually said, after taking a moment to compose his reply. "Yes. Your father loves you very much, Alistair. I've seen it so myself. He has always loved you, and always regretted the necessity of shunning you. But now that...things are different, your father wants to make up for it. He wants to start up a true father-son relationship with you, my boy. If that is what you want."

Alistair gave a nod and stared down at the floor, unsure of what to say to that. Duncan regarded his silence, and asked,

"_Is _that what you want, Alistair? I will completely understand if you say no; as will your father. He doesn't want to put any undue pressure on you—"

"_Then why did he send me this letter in the first place!"_ Alistair burst out, his earlier rage and anger reaching its boiling point.

A heavy silence filled the room; Duncan looked deeply shocked at his outburst. The Grey Warden opened his mouth to speak, but Alistair didn't let him; he wasn't finished. He was _far _from finished.

"How else am I supposed to feel about that?" He inquired, his voice a low monotone.

"My father wants to connect with me now, but only if I say yes; how _else _is that supposed to make me feel? That letter...it's brought me nothing but trouble since I opened it. It made me lie to Angelica, it made me unable to use my magic, and it's made me so...so _confused_, Duncan. I...I just don't know what to do about it. I...I want to feel happy about this, I really do, but..."

Tears started streaming down Alistair's face at this point; however, he took no notice of them.

"I wanted to hear from my father for so long...really, I did. But...but after awhile, I just...I just started to hate him. I hated that he never wrote to me, or never visited me. I _know _that it was for a good reason, and I _know _it was for my safety, but...that didn't stop me from hating him. And now...now that I have a new and _wonderful _life at the Circle, my father wants to write me? After all these years, _now _he wants to reach out to me? I'm, I'm sorry Duncan...I want to be happy about this...and a small part of me is, I think. But, the rest of me...

"The rest of me wants nothing to do with him." Alistair concluded. Silence matched his reply, as Duncan continued to stare at him with utter shock.

After a minute or two passed, with yet more silence, Alistair came to a decision. He got up from the bed, and wiped his tears on his sleeve. He reached inside the front of his robes, pulling out Maric's letter. He carefully sit it down on the bed.

"I'm sorry, Duncan. I can't...I just can't do this. Not now. Maybe not ever. Tell my father...tell him I'm sorry."

And without waiting to see if Duncan would reply this time, Alistair left the room.

* * *

_I'd like to apologize for the extended wait for this chapter. I encountered some heavy writer's block early on, and I later became conflicted on what direction I wanted to go with for this chapter. Those two factors led to the delayed release of this chapter, and I do apologize for it. I'll try not to let it happen again._

_Also, just so all my readers know, at this point I am putting up a new schedule for _Alistair the Mage_. Instead of updating it every week, like I was doing in 2012, I shall be updating this fanfic every other week. _

_Why? I have another fanfic I'm working on now, in conjunction with this. An Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic called _Daughter of the Dai Li_, which I highly encourage you to read if you're a fan of Avatar. I started it late last December, and at first I tried to work on both this fanfic and _DotDL _together and write them at the same time, but...that didn't work out so well. _

_So now, I've come up with a new schedule so I can better juggle writing these two fanfics together. From now on, this fanfic will be updated every other week, as I said. So next week, I'll be working on _Daughter of the Dai Li _instead, and the week after that, I'll swing back with a new chapter of _Alistair the Mage_, and so on and so forth. _

_Ideally, I'll keep up this schedule until one or even both fanfics are completed. Which is going to be a long, long time from now, honestly. _AtM_ and _DotDL _are both long-term projects that will take dozens and dozens of chapters to see truly and completely finished, I wager. So unless I decide to change the updating schedule again, that's how things will be from now on. Just so you all know._

_Please do not forget to review. I like to hear the thoughts of all my readers, good or bad. _


	12. Another Average Day at the Circle

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 9: Another Average Day at the Tower**

"_The time has come. We've no choice but to—"_

"_Healer! We need a Healer! Maker's Breath, where is—"_

"_No Alistair! Don't—"_

"_Every last one of them...they're all—"_

"_You...you saved my life, Warden! I don't know how I can ever—"_

_"Please...please, just let me _die, _Alistair. I can't take the pain any longer. It hurts too much. I don't _want_ to live__—"_

"_Congratulations Alistair! I never thought I'd live to see—"_

"_I hope you're ready for battle, Warden! And don't you _dare _let those bloody—!"_

"_She...she's gone, Alistair. She—_"

"_Are you sure about this Alistair? We're risking everything to—"_

"_Bow before the true Andraste! Bow—"_

"_My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet! Queen Anora and King—"_

"_He shall be known as—"_

"_Join us, Brothers and Sisters—"_

"_Step forth, Alistair, and claim your destiny."_

* * *

"Wake up, Alistair. Come on, rise and shine."

Alistair groaned as he was disturbed in his sleep, and in an instant he was pulled back from the Fade; as he returned to reality, Alistair had the curious feeling that he was forgetting something important about his most recent dream in the Fade, but he brushed it aside, not caring what he may or may not remember about any dreams he had while sleeping.

The young child opened one eye blearily, and did his best to glare at his bunkmate.

"I hate you Anders," Alistair declared dramatically, before he sat up with a sigh. The boy in question rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come now, Alistair. We all have to wake up eventually. Come on, up and at it! It's time for breakfast."

Alistair grumbled under his breath, but he complied, nonetheless. He hopped off of his bed and got dressed for the new day, following Anders to the dining hall for some food, thereafter. They were served their meal soon enough, thank the Maker, and Alistair eagerly began to eat. While he ate, his mind began to drift, thinking over all that had happened recently...

Six months had passed since the day that Duncan of the Fereldan Grey Wardens visited the Tower. Six months had passed since the fateful day that Alistair had heard from his father, King Maric, for the first time in his life. And in that lapse of time, many things had changed.

While Duncan had been unsuccessful in getting him to accept his father's offer, he _had_ succeeded in accomplishing his official goal at the Circle, and had managed to recruit an adventurous young Mage by the name of Markl. Alistair hadn't known him personally, but according to Anders, Markl had been an outspoken young man that the 'Knight-Commander had been eager to get rid of', or some such thing; Alistair hadn't quite understand that remark from his bunkmate. But what he _did _understand was, that out of all the Mages that had applied, only Markl had been successful in being recruited.

And good for him, Alistair supposed. Being a Grey Warden seemed to be even more fun than being a Mage in general, if what Anders and Angelica said about the Wardens was true! The only downside to being a Warden these days, Alistair admitted, was the fact that all the Griffins were dead. He would have _loved_ to ride a Griffin, if he ever became a Grey Warden.

Another, and a much more significant in Alistiar's opinion, change had been Angelica's gradual introduction of..._written work_...into their lessons. Anders had been right when he described written work as the bane of all Apprentices; while their Enchanter wasn't_ too_ hard on them, Alistair still found it a hard time, writing all those essays and such. His writing skills had improved over time, of course, but that didn't make the assignments any better to deal with. Personally, Alistair rather missed the days when they just did practical application of spells, and didn't have to write about how two spells being mixed together could lead to all sorts of curious results...

And...huh. Alistair quickly revised his earlier thought; in the lapse of time since Duncan came to the Circle, only _two _major occurrences had really happened. For the most part, things had largely remained the same with his life at the Fereldan Circle of Magi. And...he didn't really mind it, all that much.

Sure, life at the Circle was largely static. Same routine, day in, day out: wake up in the morning, have breakfast, have morning lessons, eat lunch, have afternoon lessons, eat dinner, and then have some free time inbetween it all before the curfew was enforced. Still, Alistair didn't find that necessarily bad.

He rather liked the routine he'd developed at the Circle; it brought him a sense of comfort, and familiarity. Back at Redcliffe, things had largely remained the same, day in and day out, as well. So while others may have found the constant, nearly unchanging schedule of the Circle maddening, Alistair found some good peace with it. He rather liked his life, such as it was now, at the Circle. So that helped too.

Still...it wouldn't _entirely _hurt if something unexpected happened, now and again. It might help make things even more fun and interesting around here.

The sudden sound of subdued laughter broke Alistair out of his thoughts, and he looked around, wondering just what was so funny. His gaze immediately zeroed on First Enchanter Irving, and his now flaming, hot pink hair.

"Anders," Irving stood up from his chair and glared sternly at him from across the room. "I believe we need to have a talk in my office. Now."

* * *

Later that day, Alistair was in the main training room on the third floor of the Tower, doing a practical application of his Enchanter's latest lesson.

"Concentrate, Alistair," Angelica instructed. "Let your magic flow through you. Shape it to your will. Now...let it gather and swirl around you, transform it into the bolt...and...fire!"

Alistair did as Angelica instructed, raising his hands as he fired an Arcane Bolt at the target on the other side of the room. The empty glass vial shattered upon contact, leaving a slight trail of smoke in the wake of the spell.

"Very good, Alistair!" Angelica beamed, giving her student an approving smile. "Very good indeed! You've come far in mastering the Arcane Bolt spell. I'm very proud of you. Now, who wants to go next?"

Emilia eagerly raised her hand, and Angelica nodded at her. She shuffled over to the practice arena, readied her spell, and fired.

"Good job, Emilia!" Angelica exclaimed. The young girl in question blushed at Angelica's praise, and gave a slight bow, before moving out of the way. As she left, Alistair noted that it looked like Emilia had missed her target, since Alistair could still see a unbroken vial of glass. Though the same couldn't be said for the dented and still slightly smoking wall behind the vial. It seemed she had done well with the spell, either way.

"That's some good work, from all of you! I do believe that concludes our last lesson for the day." Angelica continued, smiling at her students. "Don't forget about your written work now, children! That's due tomorrow morning."

They all assured their teacher that of course they wouldn't forget, and Angelica proceeded to escort them out of the training room, leading them down the stairs that led back to the Dormitory.

"You um, did g-great with the Arcane Bolt, A-Alistair." Talia spoke up with a shy smile, as they walked. "I was very i-impressed."

"Thanks, Talia!" Alistair replied with a light blush, smiling back at his friend. "You did good too! You even splintered the stool the vial was standing on; that was incredible!"

"T-Thanks, Alistair." Talia's face turned a slight crimson, and she swiftly scampered back over to Emilia, and in seconds the two girls were giggling with each other. Alistair blinked, mystified, and gazed over at Jowan. The other boy merely shrugged in response.

"Beats me," he added. "Girls were always a mystery to me, and I have several sisters in my family!"

Alistair shrugged himself, thinking it over. Talia was a great friend, of course, even if she was a bit..._odd_, these days. She was shy around them all in general, of course, but she had behaved moreso than usual around him. Weird. He hoped that nothing was wrong with her.

Of course, he was probably just over thinking it. Maybe Talia was going through some weird phase or something; whatever it was, it was probably nothing.

"Say, do you think the rumors are true?" Jowan suddenly inquired. Upon seeing Alistair's questioning looked, he further asked,

"Do you think the rumors about Anders are true? That he's the one responsible for the potion that turned the First Enchanter's hair pink?"

Alistair chuckled slightly, remembering that morning's breakfast fondly. After thinking it over, he said, "I don't think he is, actually. Anders usually likes to brag about these things, but he's been swearing up and down to me that he's not responsible for it. I guess I believe him, if he says that."

"Huh. If it's not him, then who it is?" Jowan wondered aloud, pondering over the potential candidates.

Before Alistair could voice his own suspicions, a older Apprentice Mage suddenly dashed down the hall, nearly running into them. As he passed, a small contingent of Templars followed, swords drawn as they chased after him. These Templars _did _run into them, or at least one of them; Angelica was roughly knocked out of the way, only just managing to brace herself against the wall as she stumbled.

"Son of a...!" Angelica glared at the retreating Templars, and looked back over at her students. "Is everyone alright?"

They all nodded, and Angelica glanced back at where the Mage and Templars had run off. "Stay here, children. I'm going to see what's going on."

Angelica ran off to investigate and, being the inquisitive kids that they where, Alistair and his friends swiftly followed her. After a brisk run, they came to a stop at the end of the hallway; the Mage from before was backed against the hall, holding his staff out in a threatening manner, while the Templars circled him, blades poised and ready to be used. Angelica stood a few feet away from the scene, her hand hesitating to her own staff, in case of trouble.

"Stand down, Apprentice, and drop that staff you stole! Submit, and we'll show you mercy." the lead Templar commanded. The cornered Mage shook his head, and snarled,

"Never! I will _not _be made Tranquil! I...I would rather die!"

"You _will _die, boy, if you don't submit!" the Templar boomed with a scowl. "Stand down, or we will use the Smite to force you to!"

The frightened Mage drew in quick, shaky breaths, and his eyes darted between the quartet of Templars, as if he was debating his chance. In the end it seemed he did not like those odds, as he finally sighed in defeat, and lowered his staff. With a heavy, broken voiced, he intoned,

"Very well. I'm convinced. Take me."

"Sensible lad. Now—" the Templar was cut off by a blinding flash of light that consumed the cornered Mage; and when they could see again...

Time seemed to stop, as he stared at the magnificent and terrifying beast before him. Alistair's eyes widened in horrid fascination.

A creature of unimaginable horror, unlike anything Alistair had seen before, seemed to have consumed the Apprentice that had been there before. Where once was a young man now resided a twisted melding of flesh, blood, monstrosity, and rage. It was a being of unspeakable evil; that much young Alistair could _feel, _right off the bat. Physical appearances aside, something just felt _wrong _about the creature. So very wrong...

And then, all too abruptly, time started once more.

"_Abomination!"_

"_Kill it! Kill it now!"_

"_Sound the alarm!"_

All at once the Templars spoke and shouted, clambering back from the creature. In turn, the Abomination roared back at them, and with one hand, issued forth a stream of fire that immediately immolated the nearest Templar, who crashed to the ground with a blood-curdling scream.

Several things happened in the moment that followed: the remaining Templars yelled and rushed at the Abomination, their swords sailing to its twisted body; Enchanter Angelica whirled around to run, and noticed her wayward students; and Emilia began to scream.

"_Run!" _Angelica screeched at them, as she lifted her staff from her back. _"Run!"_

They did not have to be told twice; eyes wide with fear, Alistair turned tail and rushed away, his friends only moments behind him. The Abomination roared behind them, finishing off the last of the Templars with another immolation spell. It took one glance at their retreating forms, and lurched to follow them.

"_Keep running!"_ Angelica stopped and turned back to the Abomination, whipping her staff around and shooting a Paralyzing Hex to bring the creature to a swift and immediate halt. The Abomination did not slow down for a single instant.

"_Keeping running and don't look back!" _Angelica shouted again, and fired off another spell at the rampaging beast.

And they would have kept running, too; they would have fled far into the Tower, while Angelica held off the Abomination. But not all plans survive first contact, as Talia chose that unfortunate moment to stumble and trip, falling flat on her face.

Jowan and Emilia were ahead of Talia, and didn't see her fall; thus, they kept running. Alistiar, however, was right beside Talia, and took notice of her collapse. He immediately came to a halt, as he knelt beside her and tried to help Talia to her feet.

"Come on! We..." the words died in Alistair's throat, and his heart skipped a beat as the Abomination came into view; it took one look at them, and snarled, rushing at them.

Once again, time seemed to slow; the Abomination inched closer and closer to them, and in response Talia completely dropped to her feet with a scream, covering her head with her arms in a vain attempt to shield herself. Alistair himself stayed his ground, but he knew he needed to act fast; if he didn't do _something_, then that monster would kill them both!

And so, Alistair did the first thing that came to mind: he gathered his magic to him, and projected an Arcane Bolt at the beast.

Time seemed to speed up all at once, and the Abomination was only a few feet away from them when the Arcane Bolt smashed into the possessed Mage's chest, halting his advance. It staggered back, caught offguard by the attack, but otherwise appeared to be unharmed by the weak spell. It glared at him, a murderous look in its one visible eye, but before it could retaliate...

"_You will not touch them!" _roared Angelica, as she charged into view; her robes were burned and smoldered still, and grievous burn marks were left on her left side of her face and head, but she did not let those wounds stop her from protecting her students. She rushed up behind the Abomination with a sword in one hand, and a staff in the other, preparing to attack. The beast whirled around to strike at her, but it was too late for him.

With a vicious yell, she froze the creature in place with a Frost spell, and cleaved the Abomination in half with her sword, reducing the beast into two bloody chunks.

For a moment, it seemed like it was over. All was still in the hallway. Then, the brief silence in the wake of the Abomination's death was shattered, as the remains of the Abomination exploded into flame, showering them in fire. Without even thinking, Alistair threw himself in front of Talia, to protect her.

The last thing Alistair saw was a ring of flame flying toward him; and then, overwhelmed by excruciating pain, he blacked out.


	13. Curious Realities

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it._

* * *

**Chapter 10: Curious Realities**

"_Wake up, Alistair..."_

_A pair of strong hands started to shake the young boy in his sleep; dazed and tired, Alistair tried to shrug off the attempt. But, the hands were persistent, and they continued to rattle him. In response, Alistair turned on his side, and mumbled for them to go away._

"_Wake_ up, _already, you dunderhead!" And with that, one of the hands slapped him._

That_ brought him up immediately, and Alistair bolted upright with a startled cry of pain. "Hey! That hurt!"_

_Alistair glared at his attack, and rubbed his sore cheek. He blinked, then, and looked closer at his attacker. "Wait. Who're you? You're not Anders..."_

_Nor was she anyone he had ever seen before, come to think; the person that stood before him was a girl several years older than him, at the peak of her own young adulthood, he guessed. The girl herself was dressed in some very peculiar looking robes, he noted; if anything, her outfit looked like some sort of armor with...furry-looking shoulder pads? Weird...wait. He'd seen those before. Were those Tevinter Magister robes, or something like that?_

_And as for her physical features, the young lady was equally striking, with a shockingly bright mane of yellow hair, and vivid blue eyes. How odd...he'd definitely remember seeing someone like_ that_ in the Circle. _

"_Of course not! I'm _obviously_ a girl." she replied, rolling her eyes. _

"_I can see that..." Alistair mumbled, glaring at her; he didn't like her, he decided. She was too rude for his liking. _

_Of course, Alistair stopped caring about that little fact when he also noticed that he wasn't in the Apprentice Dormitory, as well. Or anywhere remotely familiar in the Tower. _

_He was in a small clearing, laying on top of a small mound of...of flowers? Alistair blinked again, and plucked a small rose that was sticking from under his back. Huh. This was different._

_Wait...was the rose_ hazy_ and out of focus, or was it just his imagination?_

"_It's not," the girl cheerily informed him, as if reading his mind. Alistair looked back at her, and took full stock of his surroundings again. Everything had a hazy, unfinished quality to it, making it all look so unnatural and unreal; even the girl standing before him didn't appear right..._

"_I'm...in the Fade?" _

"_Correct!" the girl beamed and grinned at him. "Glad you finally noticed! I was wondering when that'd catch up to you."_

_Exercising great caution, Alistair slowly got to his feet and looked around, wondering just what sort of madness he'd gotten into now. By the Maker, what was going on here?! The last thing he remembered was being in the Tower, with Talia and Angelica and—_

"_The Abomination!" Alistair blurted out, as a rush of memories returned to him. He fearfully whirled around, looking out for the horrid creature. "Where is it? Is it here?!"_

"_Ah, worry not, my friend! You are safe in this place. Well, relatively speaking." spoke a new voice. _

_Alistair whirled around once more, and discovered someone behind him that hadn't been there before. The stranger was as striking as the young girl in front of him; he was an Elf quite unlike any Alistair had seen before, with light-brown skin, golden hair, and had curious facial tattoos. The Elf was wearing some light leather armor, and had a dagger strapped to either side of his waist. And, most curious of all, the Elf had a crow perched on his shoulder, of all things. _

"_Who...what..." Alistair trailed off, completely flabbergasted by the absurdity around him. Being in the Fade, now that was one thing he could understand and accept; it wasn't his first time here, after all. All Humans and Elves dream in the Fade, after all. But having these two around completely mystified him..._

_Who_ were _these strange people?_

"_We're friends, Alistair." the girl announced, suddenly appearing beside the young boy. Startled, Alistair jumped back from her, causing her to smile and giggle._

"_My, he's fun to startle!" she proclaimed, grinning cheekily at him. The Elf chuckled, himself._

"_Indeed he is, _bellisma_. And just look how adorable he is at this age! My, the Alistair of later years certainly loses all this cuteness, does he not?" the Elf added with a smirk. _

"_What...who..." Alistair continued to stare at the strangers, words failing him. Finally, he burst out in a mixture of confusion, frustration, and fear,_

"_Who are you people?! What is going on here?!" _

_Silence met him in reply. The Elf and the girl traded a glance, before looking back over at him. _

"_As the little vixen here stated, we are your friends, Alistair. Or at least, we will be." the Elf said at last. Alistair continued to stare at him blankly. The girl helpfully added,_

"_It's the Fade, Alistair. It doesn't have to make sense."_

_Alistair took that in, and felt some peace and comfort settle in within him from the knowledge. Yes, of course, this was the Fade! The reality where anything was possible! Of course this didn't make sense, because it was a_ dream! _Finally, things were starting to add up, here. This was all just one of his more weirder dreams; in fact, maybe that whole thing with the Abomination had been a dream too! Man,_ _Anders would get a kick of this one, when Alistair told him about this later..._

"_Actually, the Abomination wasn't a dream, it really happened." the girl unhelpfully clarified. "And this isn't actually a dream. You're dying, Alistair._"

_And there went his peace and tranquility; it died not with a whimper, but with an earth-shattering_ bang.

"What?!"_ Alistair felt a surge of panic well up within him, at these fear-inducing words. "I'm...I'm_ dying!?"

"_I am afraid it is true, my friend." the Elf gave a solemn nod. "That Abomination gave you one last nasty surprise before it finished its rampage. And since you were so close, the wave of fire did an extra amount of damage to your frail body. If you aren't healed in time, you may very well die from your burns."_

"_Don't worry, though!" the girl quickly reassured him, after seeing Alistair's crestfallen face. "You'll be fine! Absolutely fine! Wynne will get to you in time. It'll take something worse than a mere Abomination to take down the Mighty Alistair!"_

_Alistair didn't pay any attention to her reassurances, though, and continued to obsess over what the Elf said. He was..._dying _because of the Abomination's last attack? That...that was_ horrible!_ He was too young to die! He still had so much to do! He couldn't leave his friends! And Angelica, especially! There was no way he could die_ now!

"_A pity that the girl speaks the truth," another new voice stated, as a new man walked up from behind the Elf and the girl. "I would give nothing more than to see you die. But I suppose I shall have to bide my time. Oh well, so be it. I am patient man; and I can wait a long time, if need be, to witness your demise."_

_The latest arrival was the strangest of them all, Alistair decided; the man before him was dressed in a rather fancy uniform, though of what nation, he couldn't say. Though the mask the man wore, which covered the upper part of his face, made him suspect that he was an Orlesian; if he remembered correctly, Orlesians had an obsession with masks. At least, Teagan had told him as much. _

"_Bite your tongue! You should be lucky that Alistair will survive. All of Thedas would be doomed if he died as a child!" the girl chided, glaring crossly at the masked man. He gave a snort in reply, and his hand went to the sword strapped to his waist. _

"_Hmph, that remains to be seen, my dear child. Nonetheless, you are right that he shall not die today. And perhaps that is for the best; I'd rather kill this coward myself, instead of having an _Abomination _do my job for me." the masked man grinned maliciously, and wrapped his fingers around his sword's hilt. _

"_Now now, no fighting, please! We are in sacred ground, after all. And I would not turn this near-death experience into a nightmare! It'd scar this adorably sweet version of Alistair for life!" the Elf exclaimed, before smiling once more at the young boy. _

"_I apologize, dear Warden, but I cannot get over it! You are just so _adorable _as a child! It is a shame I shall not meet you at this age. Alas, it is probably for the best. I'd probably try to take you back home to Antiva, since you're so adorable." the Elf added with a wide grin._

"_Now now, no need to scare the poor kid. He's liable to start thinking you're one of _those _types of men." the girl gave the Elf a teasing smirk, before turning to address Alistair himself. "I apologize for my companions, here. They must be confusing you to no end, I bet!"_

"_...To say the least..." Alistair fully admitted, keeping a close eye on them all as he took a few steps back. These _were _some very strange people, to say the least! Personally, he couldn't _wait _to wake up from this crazy dream. _

"_Hopefully your next near-death vision won't be as...confusing as this one, Alistair. If you ever _have_ another near-death vision; hard to say, since this is the Fade and all. Anything's possible though, I suppose." the girl stated, giving a shrug. _

_The ground started to shake, then, as beams of light erupted from the earth. The Elf and the masked man faded from Alistair's sight, as sections of the ground began to crumble and cave into the nothingness below. But, just before he returned from the Land of Dreams, Alistair couldn't help but ask one last time,_

"_Who _are _you people?"_

"_We're all people you will meet, one day, in the future; specifically, people that will greatly impact your life. As for _who _we are, though...well, you're just going to have to find that out for yourself, Alistair!" The girl grinned and winked at him, as she too faded from sight. _

_The ground below Alistair collapsed, suddenly, and he found himself hurtling through the great white nothingness below—_

* * *

When Alistair awoke, he found himself back at the infirmary; a place he had not visited since first arriving at the Circle of Magi so many months ago. As awareness returned to him, sparks of memory burst through his mind: the horrid, vile Abomination, chasing after them; Talia, tripping and falling, right as the Abomination came up them; Angelica, rescuing them in just the nick of time; and then...

_Fire. _

Alistair bolted upright, as, in a rush, the memories flooded back to him. A certain pair of hands gently gripped his shoulders, however, and Alistair finally noticed a stern, yet worried, Wynne hovering over him.

"Careful now, Alistair! Careful," the old Mage gracefully pushed him back onto the infirmary bed. "You've been through a terrible ordeal, young man, and you're going to have to stay here for a little while."

Alistair gave a dim nod, still overwhelmed by the flash of memories. Then, a brief image of his harmed Enchanter came back to the forefront of his mind.

"Angelica! Is she alright? And Talia and Jowan and Emilia, too? Are they all...okay?" Alistair desperately asked, hoping that the answer would be good. To his relief, Wynne nodded as much.

"Yes, your friends are fine. Jowan and Emilia only received some terrible fright for their troubles, and Talia didn't take the brunt of the fire. As for Angelica..." Wynne hesitated, before stating, "She is...she will make it. She received some terrible burns, but they can be healed. However, Angelica is in a magically induced coma, right now; that way, I can better treat her wounds."

Alistair nodded, and brought a hand to massage his temples for a headache he already felt was coming. He blinked in confusion when his fingers met bandages. Carefully, he felt around his forehead, and then to the top of his head, where the bandages continued. Then, focusing on his feeling hand, he noticed a series of bandages wrapped down his arm, starting at the end of his wrist. Startled and somewhat alarmed, Alistair gave Wynne a questioning look.

"Before the fire hit, you tried to shield yourself with your arm, Alistair. It took a good deal of the blow, hence why it's bandaged. As for your head, I'm afraid some flames caught onto your hair and it caught fire, as a result. By the time I got to you, there wasn't much hair left, and what _was _left, I had to shave in order to heal your scalp." she explained.

"Now," Wynne swiftly went on, "I've healed the worst of your burns, but for the time being I want you to remain patched up and in the infirmary, Alistair. Alright?"

"Alright," Alistair echoed, taking in what the Healer said. It was all so much for him to take in, in that moment; the memories of the Abomination, and the subsequent flight from and fight against it, still weighed heavy on his mind...

Wynne walked away from his bed, briefly, and returned with a small cup in her hands, offering it to him, saying, "You need to keep resting now, Alistair. Drink this potion; it'll help you sleep, and then I can continue your treatment."

The young child took the cup from Wynne, and after a reluctant pause, drank its contents. To his surprise, it didn't taste that bad at all; if anything, it was rather good! It had a sweet taste to it...

"Goodnight, Alistair. When you next awaken, you should be in better health," Wynne promised, and Alistair felt himself drift back into a dreamless sleep...

* * *

When consciousness returned to him once more, Alistair found a pair of eyes gazing deep into his face. Alistair jerked away in surprise, and the owner of the eyes gasped, moving away from his personal space. After taking a moment to recover from that slight startle, Alistair looked over and noticed that the pair of eyes belonged to a slightly blushing, but otherwise fine, Talia.

"G-Good morning, Alistair. I-I'm glad you're awake! I was...w-worried, about you." Talia stated, giving him a shy smile.

"I'm fine...I guess." Alistair replied, while giving a brief pat to his still bandaged head. "And it doesn't even really hurt all that much, too. Um, are you alright, Talia? Last I remember you fell, and then there was that wave of fire that came toward us..."

"D-Don't worry about me, Alistair. The flames hardly touched me, and what burns I did get, Wynne easily healed. You're the one that really got the brunt of the attack..." Talia trailed off, and started fidgeting as she stared down at the floor.

An awkward silence started to form, and Alistair wondered if she was really okay. "Talia, are—"

"I'm sorry!" Talia burst out, looking up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. Taken aback, Alistair could only stare at her in response.

"W-What are you—" he started, but she immediately cut him off as she started crying, sobbing out:

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm _sorry_! You got hurt because of _me_, Alistair! I'm sorry! If I hadn't tripped, then I wouldn't have put you in danger, and then you wouldn't be hurt right now and...and..._I'm sorry!" _

And with that, Talia collapsed onto his bed, sobbing into the young boy's chest. Alistair gawked at her in shock, completely unprepared for these series of events, but finally it occurred to him that comforting his friend might be the best thing to do; and thus, Alistair carefully lowered a hand onto Talia's back, hesitantly rubbing her back as she cried.

"It, ah, wasn't your fault, Talia." he stated, hoping to further soothe her. "Really, it wasn't! It was just bad timing. I'm just glad you didn't get hurt too badly."

At this, Talia lifted her tear-streaked face up. She looked at him hopefully, and gave a little sniffle. "R-Really? You aren't...mad at me?"

"Of course not! I could never get mad at you, Talia. You're one of my best friends." Alistair earnestly reassured, gently smiling at the young girl. "So don't, um, beat yourself up over it or anything. It wasn't your fault, Talia. I'm just glad you that you're alright."

Talia sniffled again, and wiped her face clean. Slowly, she smiled back at him. "T-Thanks, Alistair. I'm, um, glad you're alright too."

Talia leaned over and fully hugged him, surprising Alistair. The sound of a light cough made her pull back, however, making them both blush a little as she moved away.

Wynne was back in the room, now, and eyed them both with wry amusement. Looking back over at Talia, she said, "I hate to interrupt this reunion, but I need to tend to Alistair now, Talia. Would you mind stepping out for a moment? I've got to look him over one last time before I let him leave the infirmary."

"O-Of course, Wynne." the young child mumbled back to her, as she quickly scurried out of the room.

Wynne chuckled one last time before going over to her patient. "Now, let's see about getting those bandages off, Alistair, so I can let you go rejoin your friends..."

* * *

After Wynne took off his bandages, and checked over him one last time, Alistair was released, and shown into the waiting room of the infirmary. There, he found Talia, as well as Jowan, Emilia, and Angelica. Immediately, his gazed zeroed in on his teacher; he noticed that one of her eyes was still bandaged, and that a good majority of her long, crimson hair was gone, and there were tuffs here and there that were charred black. However, aside from that lingering damage, Angelica appeared to be otherwise unharmed and well healed, much to his relief.

"Alistair!" Angelica immediately exclaimed, as he walked over to them. "It's good to see that you're finally up. I was very worried about you, young man."

"Thanks, Angelica. I was more worried about you, really, given how hurt you were before, well..." Alistair trailed off uncomfortably, not sure how to address what had happened with the Abomination.

At that, his Enchanter sighed. "Yes...I did receive my far share of harm, but I was more worried about you and Talia. I'm just glad you two are okay. Now, since you're up and at it..."

Angelica sighed again, before looking at her Apprentices with a firm gaze.

"Now that you've all been checked out by Wynne, it's time we have a talk. I know you all have questions about what happened, and I'm willing to answer them. I didn't want it to come out this way, but...there are some unfortunate facts about the Circle, and magic in general, you should all be aware of."

* * *

_I apologize for the longer than normal wait for this chapter, but it was rather hard to write. But, it's finally up! Next chapter we'll see the close of this mini-arc, more likely than not, and have Alistair and Friends learn about the less than welcome truths of being a Mage in Thedas._


	14. One Mage's Plight

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it._

_Also, a note of reference: The following interlude is from the POV of Markl, the Mage that Duncan recruited when he gave Alistair the letter from his father._

* * *

**Interlude: One Mage's Plight**

Markl had to admit, the Grey Wardens of Fereldan weren't quite what he...expected, to say the least.

True, he had been excited to join the Wardens; it had been the happiest day of his life, when Warden-Commander Duncan had chosen him, out of all the other candidates at the Circle of Magi, to be his Recruit. Markl had been at the Circle since he was six years old, after he accidentally set his father's barn on fire. So it had been a great relief to him when he was finally able to leave the gilded prison he'd spent most of his formative years at, and _would_ have spent the rest of his entire life at, if not for Duncan.

Being able to see the sun for the first time in sixteen years, and being outside in general, had also been quite the delight, Markl had to admit. However, the subsequent stay at the underground Dwarven city of Orzammar, to take his Joining, had been less than enjoyable. He _still_ couldn't understand how the Dwarves could live without sunlight, without the smell of the grass, or without being able to see the stars at night. They were an odd people, to say the least.

Still, being at Orzammar had been a unique experience. Markl had been an avid reader during his years at the Circle, and he'd read much about the former Dwarven Empire. It had been fascinating, from a scholarly standpoint, to look upon the remnants of the Dwarves. And the architecture there had an interesting quality to it, one that sketches in a history book could never match.

Oh, and being around that much unrefined Lyrium had been...quite a lifetime experience, Markl mused. Definitely gave him a reason to go to Orzammar again, one day, despite its lack of sunlight and all encompassing walls. Perhaps he could make some contacts there, in the future, and cut out the middle-man in getting Lyrium...

Overall, despite its faults, Orzammar had been an interesting place to visit, and a breath of fresh air, compared to the Circle. While he'd never want to live there, Markl could see himself visiting it, now and again. Especially if he got some good quality Lyrium out of it.

And then, had come the Deep Roads...

Six months later, and Markl _still_ had nightmares about the Deep Roads. The horrid appearance of the Darkspawn, their ghoulish faces sneering at his own...it was a sight that he _wished _he could forget. Still, at least the beasts of the Taint fell easily to his magic. It was one of the few moments that Markl was thankful to be a Mage.

And after the Deep Roads, had finally come his Joining. Drinking the blood of Darkspawn had not been pleasant, either, to say the least. It had been quite horrible, in fact. But, if that was the price to pay to have a life free from Chantry control, then Markl knew he had no other choice but to drink the blood. And even now, he didn't regret it for an instant. Becoming a Grey Warden had given him more freedom than Markl could have ever dreamed of.

Still...Markl had had certain expectations of the Grey Wardens. Certain...ideas about them. Fantasies, one could even call them. It was childish to have such thoughts, he had known, but that hadn't stopped him from thinking up such things.

He had expected their base to be a towering castle, filled with hundreds of Wardens. He had expected the Grey Wardens to be a band of noble and just warriors, ready to defend Country and King from the evils below at a moment's notice. Markl had expected...well, he had expected a great many number of things from the Grey Wardens.

The reality of what he finally met after his Joining, however, paled in comparison to his imaginations: instead of a castle, they only had a mere compound located in Denerim; instead of hundreds of able warriors, the Wardens of Fereldan numbered around fifteen men, tops; and instead of a group of righteous warriors that took _noblesse oblige _to heart, the Wardens he met were just a bunch of bored career soldiers, former mercenaries, and shifty-looking deadbeats looking to start a new life, and none of them cared a bit if a Blight happened in their lifetime or not.

To say he had been crushed would be an understatement. Still, despite these disappointments, Markl had tried to adjust. He knew that reality could never match fantasy, so he had tried his best to accept what the Fereldan Grey Wardens were. And he had succeeded, for the most part. Still, some things gnawed at him, no matter how much Markl tried to ignore them...

One major disappointment that bothered him, in his eyes, had been the simple fact that the Wardens of Fereldan were _all_ men. Every single last one of them. All men. No women at all in the Wardens whatsoever, aside from some maids and cooks that served in the compound. And they hardly counted.

Oh, sure, there was a nice mixture of Elves, Dwarves, and Humans in the group—nine Humans, four Elves, and two Dwarves, respectively—but there were _no women _whatsoever. Which rather disappointed and mystified Markl; the books he read about the Wardens clearly mentioned that plenty of women also were recruited, too. Maybe Duncan just hadn't come across good female soldiers to add to his ranks? Or maybe women had even worse survival rates when they Joined? That was something he might research, later.

So much for romancing another female Warden, though! Finally being freed from the Chantry's control over how he could, or could not, in this case, use his libido was one thing that Markl had _very _much looked forward to when he Joined the Wardens. But, that was only a minor setback. There was always the Pearl, after all...

But, in the end that was only a small problem in the grand scheme of things; in the end, Markl could handle his group of Wardens being made up solely of men. No, what _really _got under his skin was the fact that there were_ just_ fifteen Grey Wardens in the entirety of Fereldan. That boggled his mind. _Only _fifteen? Not even a full twenty? Just fifteen men, altogether?

Markl knew it wasn't his place to criticize the Grey Wardens; after all, he'd been in the group less than six months. And there was no telling if Commander Duncan faced any opposition to him recruiting any more than a small band of warriors. Still...

It was insane! Absolutely _insane!_ Orlais had _hundreds _of Grey Wardens at their disposal. The Anderfels had over a _thousand!_ And Fereldan? Fereldan had less than _twenty _Grey Wardens?! It seemed absurd, at best! What happened if a Blight were to erupt in Fereldan? Fifteen Grey Wardens seemed hardly enough to withstand the full might of an entire Darkspawn Hoard.

True, the chances of a new Blight happening in his lifetime, much less in _Fereldan _of all places, seemed unlikely. However, that hardly excused the pitiful number of Wardens that the Commander had at his disposal. The Grey Wardens had been back in Fereldan for a good number of years now; the Commander should have recruited a good deal more by now! Or at least, in Markl's opinion, Duncan should have.

And yet, his concerns had constantly been brushed aside. He'd brought it up to some of his new fellow Wardens, but they hadn't really cared. One boisterous man—a constantly drunk foreigner that wielded duel axes, whose name Markl had never really caught; it had some to do with the winds or some such thing—had even laughed in his face, when he'd brought up his concerns!

"_Ha! Like we really need a few hundred Wardens to battle all those pathetic Darkspawn. We'd be more than enough to take on the Archdemon and its Hoard if a Blight happened here! Hell, _I_ would be more than enough to take down the Archdemon! Nothing can stand against my axes! Besides, the Darkspawn are a minor threat, compared to some of the things I've seen back East. Heh, you wouldn't believe the things I've seen, kid."_

Markl had even gathered the courage to bring his concerns to Commander Duncan himself. And, to his disappointment, he too had dismissed his words.

"_I admit, there could be more Grey Wardens in Fereldan. However, I do not see the need to recruit dozens and dozens of people into the Order. There is no Blight, and it is unlikely that one will occur within our lifetime. I will recruit promising candidates now and again, such as yourself, Markl, but I'm satisfied with our current roster. Besides, where would we put them all? The Denerim Compound is only so big, and the Wardens of Fereldan do not have the funds to branch out in other cities. Still, I thank you for bringing your concerns to me, Markl. If it makes you feel any better, I was already considering going over to the Alienage to see if I could find any promising candidates there..."_

And that had been the end of that. Shut out by even Duncan himself, Markl had been forced to stop his rumblings. And, to a degree, the Commander's argument about the lack of space made some sense. If this was all the Fereldan Wardens had to house their Order, then it made sense that they were so few in number.

The grievous lack of Wardens still bothered him, true, but over time Markl had simply driven the concern away. He had started to focus more on bonding with his new teammates, on making the occasional visit to the Pearl, and on raiding the Wonders of Thedas shop whenever he was paid his stipend. Over the next six months, Markl managed to forget entirely his previous worries. And no doubt that would have continued, if fate hadn't dropped a golden opportunity into his hands...

* * *

"Commander Duncan?" Markl knocked lightly on the door to the Warden-Commander's office, before entering. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but this is urgent."

Duncan looked over a letter he was reading at his desk, and gave his subordinate a questioning look. "Yes, Markl?"

The Mage stepped into Duncan's office, and shortly thereafter he was followed by a nervous young man carrying a map. The Warden-Commander raised an eyebrow at his appearance, and looked to Markl for an explanation.

"This is Levi Dryden, Sir." Markl gestured to the man in question, grinning widely at his superior as he spoke. "And I believe he has an opportunity for us that the Grey Wardens simply cannot pass up."

"Oh? Do tell." More than curious, now, Duncan put down his letter and gave his undivided attention to the visitor. Levi Dryden cleared his throat, and gave the Warden the best smile he could muster.

"Hello, Warden-Commander Duncan! Thank you for your time. I very much appreciate it. Now, by chance, have you ever heard of a place called Soldier's Peak? Either way, I think there is an opportunity there that would benefit us both greatly..."

* * *

_...Next chapter will conclude the min-arc of Alistair finding out about the down sides of being a Mage. This, I swear. _

_Also, I apologize for how short this chapter is. But, I felt I this was an appropriate enough stopping place. Also, I'm sorry for the late posting of this chapter, but my writing muse simply did not want to cooperate with me. But, this chapter is finally out now, and that's good enough for me!_

_Now, some of you may ask, why did I do a POV chapter with a relatively minor OC I just made up last chapter or so? Well...by the chapter's end, I'm sure you figured it out. ;)_

_Butterflies are wonderful things, aren't they? So many changes can be wrought with just a flap of those little wings..._

_Oh, and Duncan is a seriously negligent Warden-Commander. Less than two dozen people by the time the Fifth Blight starts? And he NEVER bothered to go over to Soldier's Peak to reclaim it? Yeah...what was he thinking? Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. Perhaps now, he'll devote some resources to checking out the Peak. ;)  
_

_Also, I have good news! Remember how I said I'd update this fanfic every other week? Yeah, not doing that anymore. Working on two fanfics at once was too strenuous, so I decided to put _Daughter of the Dai Li _on a temporary hiatus while I work on _Alistair the Mage_ some more. I'll probably pick up that fanfic again once I've gotten past Alistair's Harrowing. Anyway, long story short, it's back to an update every week for this fanfic! Ideally, at least. _

_And that's it for now. Don't forget to review! I appreciate the thoughts of all my readers, good or bad. _


	15. Poor, Unfortunate Souls

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it_.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Poor, Unfortunate Souls**

"_We must be careful where we tread. The Deep Roads are a dangerous place, and if we let our guard down for an instant, it may prove our undoing." a black-haired Dwarf advised, as she led Alistair and the others through a set of tunnels; behind them, they heard the gates to Orzammar slam shut. _

"_Right, Duncan said as much, himself when we came here," Alistair commented, looking around the tunnel with a grimace. "And the Deep Roads look just as inviting as the last time I was down here, too. Lovely."_

"_And it only gets worse from here," sighed another member of the party. "The Taint starts to cover _everything_ as you go deeper into these tunnels. So, for those of us present who _aren't_ Grey Wardens, please refrain from touching anything you even _think_ is Tainted. Otherwise, you'll be Joining our ranks very shortly."_

_A blonde Elf in leather armor gave a disgruntled groan. "I suppose, then, it is too late to stay behind with the others? Pity; I am starting to regret volunteering to go down into the Deep Roads. Becoming a Grey Warden is not something I have in mind; no offense intended, of course, dear Alistair."_

"_None taken," Alistair waved his hand at the Elf. "Just make sure not to touch anything Tainted, and you should be fine."_

_The companions fell into an agreeable silence, then, as they continued their journey into the abyss before them. After a brief period of journeying through the Deep Road's vast and spacious tunnels, the Dwarf leading their party broke the silence and spoke up._

"_Alistair..." she began. "I must apologize for this whole mess. It is partly my fault that we are forced to play as kingmakers in order to get the Dwarves to honor their part of the treaty. If I had acted on my suspicions toward Bhelen while I was still a Princess, then perhaps Orzammar would not be in this current crisis, and my people would be able to properly respond to the Blight."_

"_No need to apologize. From what you've told me about your brother, there's no way you could have anticipated what he'd do to you and Trian." Alistair was quick to say, giving his comrade a sympathetic smile. _

_The Dwarf nodded her thanks, but still protested, "Still, I shouldn't have let myself be fooled by Bhelen's act of simplicity for a single second—"_

_A distant chatter was picked up by the echoing effects of the walls, and the group halted, hands going toward their various weapons. _

"_Is it—" the Elf started to say, but was cut off by Alistair._

"_Yes." Alistair could feel a strong tingling feeling in the back of his head. He definitely knew what that meant. "It's Darkspawn, all right."_

_The chattering grew louder, as the Tainted beasts too sensed their counterparts. The roar of the Darkspawn launched through the corridor, as the warriors of the Taint charged toward them—_

* * *

"Come on, Alistair. Wake up."

"Huh?" Alistair blinked, as he abruptly returned from the world of the Fade. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up in his bed, looking over at Anders. The older boy smiled slightly at him, and reached over to pat Alistair's newly bare scalp.

"Come on, it's time for breakfast. Eating some good food ought to grow your hair back faster," Anders claimed, smiling even more as Alistair grumbled and swatted his hand off of his head. Alistair swung his legs over his bed, and rose to his feet.

"Alright, I'm up." Alistair swiftly replied, not even feeling up to griping back at Anders about his newfound lack of hair.

Normally, being bald might be something that worried Alistair, or annoyed him, or something like that; after all, he quite liked his hair, even if he had never really realized that until he had found himself shaved bald. But, everything that had happened with the Abomination still weighed heavily on his mind, as well as...

"_There is no easy way to start this conversation, I suppose. In all honesty, I hate that you children even _have_ to learn these facts, but it is a necessity. I can shield you all no longer from the harsh realities of our life. You children _must_ know the consequences of being a Mage of the Circle. As some people say, there's always a downside to every aspect of life. And that fact, unfortunately, is true for the life of a Magi..."_

...As well as what Angelica had said the day before.

"You okay, Alistair?" Anders inquired, jarring the young boy out of his thoughts. Remembering where he was, he swiftly got dressed and ready for the new day, and left with Anders as they walked with the other Apprentices to breakfast.

Anders shot him a few concerned looks, and asked, "You okay? You're not acting like yourself..."

"I'm fine," Alistair was quick to respond, wincing a little after the words came out. That definitely didn't sound convincing. And indeed, Anders didn't seem to buy it for a moment, as he pursed his lips and stared at him.

"Fine," Anders stated after a long pause. "If you say so."

Alistair gave Anders a nod, and the two walked in silence to the dining hall after that. Alistair was just about to enter the hall when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see who wanted his attention, and saw that Talia was standing right behind him.

"Hey, Alistair." Talia softly greeted, giving him a shy smile. She looked down at her feet anxiously, and said,

"Um, Emilia and Jowan w-were talking last night and they b-both want to discuss what Angelica told us. They wanted me to tell you that. So, um, a-after all the Apprentices are g-g-gone, we can get together and talk about it, I suppose. Just so you k-know."

Having relayed her message, Talia immediately scurried away into the dining hall, before Alistair could even reply. Alistair stared after her, once again wondering why she was so shy around him, before shrugging it off. He had more important things to worry about, after all. Perhaps talking about things with Emilia, Jowan, and Talia might help alleviate those worries...

Alistair went in and sat down with Anders, digging into his food soon after it was served to him by the Tranquil. Unlike countless times before, though, Alistair couldn't help but stare at the branded men and women that catered to them; he had always been curious about them before, especially about those odd tattoos on their foreheads, but he had always assumed them to be some sort of servants employed by the Chantry. Now, though, that he knew the truth...

"_The Tranquil are...hm. They are not...easy to describe. Well, to sum them up briefly, they are former Mages who have been stripped from their connection to the Fade, and thus can no longer use their magic. But as a result, they have also had their emotions stripped from them as well..."_

Now that he knew the truth, Alistair couldn't take his eyes of them. He couldn't help it; now that he knew what the Tranquil _really _were, he couldn't help but stare at them and wonder if...if...

"I bet you're wondering if you're gonna end up like them," Anders suddenly spoke, his voice bringing Alistair back to reality. The young boy jumped, slightly, and looked over at his friend, staring at him blankly.

"How..." he started to ask, but Anders stopped him short.

"I asked myself that same question when I learned about the Rite of Tranquility." Anders replied with a grimace, staring down at his plate as he moved around his food with a fork. "I saw how you were staring at the Tranquil lady who served you your food. Like you were morbidly fascinated by them, or something. Figured you finally heard about what the Tranquil are. Besides, I remember staring at them the same way you are, now."

Alistair remained silent at that, unsure of how to respond. Anders took his silence as a cue to go on, however, as he went on to say,

"You've really had a rough couple of days, haven't you, Alistair? First the Abomination attack, and then learning about the Tranquil and who knows what other nasty Mage secrets...it can't be easy for you, I imagine. So, if you want to talk about it later, Alistair...I'm all ears."

Having said that, Anders went back to eating his food. Alistair followed a moment later, and thought about his friend's offer. Maybe talking to Anders about this would be a good idea, later...

* * *

Soon enough, breakfast came to an end, and Alistair found himself back in the Apprentice Dormitory. The other Apprentice Magi came and went in due time, being dragged away by their Enchanters to their morning lessons. Alistair himself, as well as Emilia, Jowan, and Talia, remained behind, however, as Angelica wasn't coming to collect them, today.

Due to her injuries from fighting with the Abomination, Angelica was unable to teach them for the time being, and until she completely healed, their lessons were canceled for the next day or two. And thus, Alistair and the others were left alone in the dormitory, with a lot of free time, but very little to do with it.

Once all the other Apprentices were gone, Alistair went over to join Jowan and Emilia, who were now seated on a bed near the center of the room. Alistair took a seat on a bed opposite them with Talia, and for a few moments the four children sat in silence, unsure of how to start.

"Well," Emilia finally began, once no one else spoke up. "I suppose I'll ask the question we've all been thinking: what are we going to do about what we've learned?"

After a brief pause, Jowan was the first to reply.

"I'm not going to become a Tranquil!" he was quick to burst out, crossing his arms. "I'm...I'm just not. I don't...fault people becoming Tranquil, I suppose; after all, the Harrowing sounds pretty terrifying. But I never want to become a Tranquil, myself. I can't really imagine life without my magic, now. And I don't want to lose my emotions, either."

Talia murmured her agreement, "I wouldn't want that either. I...I actually worked up the nerve to talk to a Tranquil, after Angelica gave us that talk. They sound so...creepy and weird. I never want to become that."

"Me too. The Harrowing sounds scary, but I'd rather go through that then spend the rest of my life as a Tranquil." Alistair voiced firmly.

"As do I." Emilia freely admitted, a small smile on her face.

"I'm glad to see we're all in agreement, then." she then added, "Though...I just...well, I suppose I'm disappointed in the Circle, now. I guess? I mean...I thought this was a good and wonderful place. Now, however...I feel a bit betrayed. I knew about the Abomination stuff, since the Chantry back in Kirkwall loved to preach about that, and I figured I'd have to live with that...but the Harrowing? A test that might kill us if we don't succeed? And if we don't want to take that, our only alternative is becoming an emotionless, magic-less, Tranquil? I...I don't like that. Not one bit."

Emilia's face fell, and she sighed, her fleeting good mood now completely gone. Similarly, Talia and Jowan deflated at the reminder of the Harrowing, and Alistair himself felt worse from even just thinking about it. Saying that they all never wanted to become Tranquil was all well and good...but would that hold up against the fearful unknown of the Harrowing? The things they might have to face in that fateful test could literally be _anything_, according to Angelica, and if they failed, then they'd certainly get killed by the Templars. But at least if they became Tranquil, they'd live...

"_I'm afraid that those are your only two options, children. Either take the Harrowing and risk death, or become a Tranquil and have your connection to the Fade forever severed. I know, it's horrible and terrifying, but there's nothing that can be done about it. I myself _hate_ the Harrowing, and the Rite of Tranquility, but they're two things I have to live with, unfortunately. That _every _Circle Mage in the land of Thedas have to deal with. And at the very least, if you succeed in your Harrowing, you _will_ become a full-fledged Magi, and you shouldn't have any trouble after that..."_

The voice of Angelica echoed heavily in Alistair's mind, and much like the day before, her words didn't bring him any real comfort.

"It...may be a hard truth to swallow," Jowan allowed, breaking the temporary silence. "But...I _still _don't want to become a Tranquil. The Harrowing may be an unfair and deadly test to give to Apprentice Magi, but it's not like we have a choice in the matter, right? I hate saying this, but it looks like we have to take it. I _never_ want to become a Tranquil, and if I have to take the Harrowing and risk my own death...well, then I'd do it. I'm sorry, but the idea of becoming a Tranquil is much more scarier to me, then potentially dying during my Harrowing."

Another bout of silence matched Jowan's reply.

"W-Would it really be worth it, though?" Talia suddenly asked, a considering look on her face. "I...I really don't want to d-die. I...I saw too much death back in the Alienage, including my own m-mother, and...well, I just d-don't want to die. And the thought of d-dying in the Harrowing terrifies just as much as becoming a Tranquil. N-No offense, Jowan, but...I'm just not sure yet, myself. I m-mean...would it be so bad? Becoming a Tranquil? I mean...at least we'd be alive—"

"Yeah, we'd be alive, but we'd be without our magic _and_ our emotions! We may as well be dead then!" Jowan loudly sniped back, looking angered that Talia had _suggested _even willingly becoming Tranquil.

Talia flinched at Jowan's raised voice and backed away as if he'd slapped her, nearly falling off of the bed in the process. She buried her head in her lap and choked out, "I'm s-sorry!"

"Jowan!" Emilia dashed off the pillow she was sitting on and rushed over to Talia, moving a surprised Alistair aside as she crawled over to the poor girl. Emilia hugged her and rubbed Talia's back, whispering some soothing words to her. As she did so, Emilia glared back at Jowan.

"You idiot!" she hissed at him, though she kept her voice low. "You _know_ she doesn't like people shouting at her!"

Jowan winced and held up his hands in a placating manner. "I'm sorry! I forgot! I didn't meant to shout, Talia. I know you don't like that. I'm sorry I scared you. I just...got worked up, that's all. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm truly sorry, Talia."

Talia raised her head from her lap and sniffled. She gave Jowan an acknowledging nod, though she didn't meet his eyes. Emilia stayed by her side and continued to comfort her. Alistair, feeling sorry for the poor Elf, reached over to pat her shoulder, though a sharp glance from Emilia warned him off from doing that, so he quickly pulled back his hand.

Almost a year after arriving at the Circle, and Talia was still working through some serious issues, unfortunately. She hated it when anyone shouted at her, as it reminded her of the vindictive Arl Urien, and so they always had to talk to her in quiet, calming tones. And she always flinched when a boy tried to touch her; another remnant of the vile Arl of Denerim. Though oddly enough, Alistair reflected, she never really reacted negatively when _he_ touched her...

"Sounds like you all need my advise," stated a familiar voice, bringing Alistair out of his thoughts.

He whirled around to look at the entrance to the Apprentice Dormitory, and noticed Anders standing in the doorway, leaning against the edge of the door-less frame.

"Anders! What are you doing here?" he started, surprised at his presence; Alistair _knew _he had seen Anders whisked away by his Enchanter Torrin, earlier...

"I remembered that Enchanter Angelica was still out having her eye checked out by Wynne, and figured your lessons would be canceled. So, I skipped my oh so lovely morning class with Torrin, and sneaked back down here. Karl's covering for me, so I should be fine. And Petra...well, we've come to an understanding, I suppose." Anders explained as he walked toward them, taking a seat next to Jowan a moment later.

"So," Anders continued, "I can tell you're all pretty conflicted over what to do, now that you know about the Harrowing, and your alternative, the Rite of Tranquility. You guy don't want to potentially die in the Harrowing, but you don't want to become a Tranquil, either. Do I have that about right?"

They all gave reluctant nods. Anders sighed and considered their situation.

"I made the decision to take my Harrowing, come what may, long ago..." he eventually began, after a few moments. "But that's just me, and what I decided to do. Ultimately, it is your choice whether or not to take your Harrowing. I'd like for you to all try, of course, but in the end, it's your decision. But if you want my advice on the matter:

"Don't become a Tranquil. _Never_ become a Tranquil. It's just not worth it. Really. It's a horrible, horrible existence, trust me. I did my research, and talked to just about every Tranquil Mage in the Tower, to find out what it was like. What they've described to me...some people might be content with it, but I'd _never _be, myself. It's...well, it's a bit hard to explain. Living life as a Tranquil would be like being blinded, I suppose; in time, you'd adjust to it and maybe even become content with such a fate, but you'd never _really _be whole again." he reasoned.

Anders stopped, swiftly adding, "Or something like that. I've never been good with analogues, and that probably wasn't a good one, anyway."

Anders paused again, gathering his thoughts once more, and went on.

"All that aside...sure, the Harrowing sounds pretty morbid and scary, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to pass. Whatever the test is, a good majority of the Apprentices who take it _do _pass. So it can't be _that_ hard. So...basically, what I'm trying to say is: the Harrowing is something that can be overcome, if you work hard enough. So don't just throw your lives away by becoming Tranquil, just because you're scared you might not be able to pass it. Besides, you all have a good decade or so before you have to take your Harrowing. So there's no need to make a decision right here, right now; but if you absolutely _must_, like I did, then decide to take your Harrowing. It might be dangerous and filled with all sorts of unknowns...but isn't everything like that, in life? After all, you never really have any idea what cards you'll be dealt with, in life..." Anders mused over his point for a moment, trailing off. In the end, he did not resume talking, satisfied with his speech.

After a few minutes of silence, to let Alistair and the others think over what he said, Anders rose from the bed and stretched, giving a fake yawn. The older Apprentice declared,

"Well! That's enough serious thought from me. I think I'll go mess around in Enchanter Torrin's room again, see if I can't find anything of his to steal and hide away. That ought to put me in a better mood. I'll leave you all to your thoughts, then."

And so Anders made his way out of the Apprentice Dormitory, pausing only as he took a step outside the vacant doorway. He looked over his shoulder at them, saying in passing,

"Like I said, you all don't have to make a choice right away. The older Apprentices are usually in their young adulthood by the time they have to face the Harrowing. So you all have plenty of time to made a decision. But if you any of you _do _make a verdict about this mess right now, one way or the other...make sure it's the _right _choice. After all, you only get to have your say in this matter once. Once you've chosen a path, there's no turning back."

With that said, Anders left the dormitory.

Silence followed Anders' exit, as Alistair, Emilia, Talia, and Jowan all gave serious thought to what their older comrade had advised. In the end, it was Jowan who spoke up first.

"I think Anders is right," he declared. "The Harrowing has its risks, sure, but...it sounds a lot better than being made Tranquil, doesn't it? I mean, can you even imagine what it'd be like, to be a Tranquil? We'd never be able to feel anything again, nor would we really even _care_ about that, or about anything, really...would any of you ever want to live such a life?"

"No, I sure wouldn't. I don't like the fact that I'd have to risk my life taking my Harrowing, but...well, it's better than becoming Tranquil, for sure. And if we _do _pass, we become full Magi. So taking the Harrowing sounds best to me." Emilia admitted, nodding her full agreement with Jowan.

"When you put it like that..." Talia sighed, and finally separated herself from Emilia's longstanding hug. She scooted over to allow her friend more room, coincidentally bringing her closer to Alistair. The young Elf looked down at her hands, and finished replying.

"When you p-put it like that, I suppose you're r-right, Jowan. I'm absolutely terrified of the H-Harrowing, now that I know about it, b-but becoming a Tranquil, instead, sounds like an even w-worse fate than d-death. The Harrowing has me s-scared, but I'd rather take that than become one of the Tranquil. I just hope I'm r-ready, when the time c-comes..."

"Of course you'll be ready! Besides, we'll make sure to help you prepare for your Harrowing, too, if you want, Talia. I'm sure we'd all like to prepare each other for our Harrowings, for that matter." Emilia reassured with a smile, patting Talia's shoulder. Jowan echoed her sentiment, and looked over at the quiet Alistair.

"Well, Alistair? What do you think?"

Alistair mulled over Anders' words for one more moment, then settled his mind. He then broke out into a smile smile and responded, "I agree with you all and Anders, of course! Now that I've considered all the negatives of becoming a Tranquil, I'd rather take my Harrowing for sure. Especially if you're all gonna take it, too!"

"So it's settled?" Emilia inquired, briefly glancing at all of them. "We'll take our Harrowing, then, when it's time?"

The children mulled over the life-changing decision before them for just a few more solitary seconds, before they replied,

"Y-Yes."

"Of course!"

"I'd rather die than become a Tranquil. Count me in."

Emilia let out a grateful sigh, and gave a pleased grin. "Wonderful! I admit, I still have some raw feelings toward the Circle, now, but...on this matter, I'm glad we all came to a consensus. It makes me feel so much better."

"How about we all take a pact, then?" Jowan suddenly suggested.

"A p-pact?" Talia inquired.

"Yeah, like, we all swear to each other here and now that we'll take our Harrowings! And ensure we all pass them together, too, since we're best friends. I doubt we'd be allowed to take our Harrowings at the same time, but in a manner of speaking, I'd like for us all to pass them together." Jowan clarified. Emilia nodded her quick agreement to the idea.

"Yes! I like that very much," she beamed, clasping her hands together. "Very much! Let's do it!"

"That's fine with me." Alistair voiced with a cheery smile. "I'd be happy to make that pact with my best friends! We're all friends forever, right? So it only makes sense we'd try and help each other to pass our Harrowings!"

"I like it, too. Let's d-do it." Talia replied, now smiling herself.

"Great!" Jowan got off from his bed and moved over to the opposing bunk, taking a seat next to Alistair. He motioned for the others to get closer, and put his hand forward toward the center of their group. After a hesitant pause, Emilia, Talia, and Alistair all laid a hand on top of his.

"In the name of the Maker, and his Bride Andraste, we all vow here today that we are all taking our Harrowings, come what may, and together we will help each other pass our Harrowings! Agreed?"

"Agreed," came the soft replies from Alistair, Talia, and Emilia. They all smiled, and Alistair himself felt immensely better, now that the pact was established.

There would be tough times ahead of them all, especially now that they knew about the Harrowing that awaited them in the future...but, in that moment, Alistair was confidant that everything would work out all right. Together, they would prepare for the trials and tribulations of the Circle of Magi, and together, they would pass it.

No matter what.

* * *

_And this little mini-arc is over at last! Finally! It took me forever to write this chapter, mainly because I was unsure of how to proceed with these events, but it's finally written, now. Glad I can move on to doing other things with Alistair and Friends. Though I must admit, I'm rather satisfied with what I finally wrote down here. Hope you guys liked it. _

_Also, I predict that there will be a bare minimum of three to six more mini-arcs left, before we get to Alistair's Harrowing. Just so you all know, in case there are those who're eager to get to the Fifth Blight. _

_Oh, and I apologize for sending this chapter so late. But, since it's twice the normal length of an average chapter, I hope that it more than makes up for the long and enduring wait. _

_And that's it for now, folks. Hope you enjoyed the end of this mini-arc. Please don't forget to review!_


	16. Graduation Day

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Chapter 12: Graduation Day**

"All good things must come to an end, children" Enchanter Angelica prefaced as their latest lesson neared a close. She adopted an almost mournful gaze as she stared at her students. "And I'm afraid that includes our time together."

There was a brief moment of stunned silence from her Apprentices, before they all started bombarding her with questions, the general gist of these frantic inquiries being,

_"__Why?!"_

Angelica quickly calmed her students down, and when they were silent at last, she replied. "I am afraid that I have reached my limits in what I can teach you all, children. I'm no use to you all, now. Over the past few years you've spent under my tutelage, I've taught you all what I can. You've all mastered the basics, but now you must all move on to more specialized areas of magic. And I'm afraid I don't have the skill to teach you all any of that."

Her words hardly brought any comfort to her students, however; they all still looked very distraught at the idea of ending their lessons with the Elven Enchanter. Alistair himself felt especially horrible about the news. And it was such a drastic change, too! Angelica had given them no warning of this event whatsoever...

In the four years that had passed since Alistair Theirin's arrival at the Fereldan Circle of Magi, many things had changed for the young boy, both for the better and for the worse. But, despite the more negative aspects of some of these alterations, Alistair had striven to accepted these changes as they came; even when the changes were quite bad, he had tried to learn to deal with them. Otherwise, how else was he to adjust to the Circle?

Learning of the Harrowing and the Rite of Tranquility years earlier had been quite the struggle to accept and overcome, true, and it had lowered his opinion of the Circle a great deal as well. But, despite the flaws of Kinloch Hold, at the end of the day Alistair still viewed the Circle as a decent place to be. It might not be the best of homes for Mages, as Alistair had come to learn, but it was still a fairly decent place to live in.

Having Angelica as their teacher and mentor had certainly helped him and his friends adjust to the more nasty aspects of the Circle, as well. Angelica was always there for them when they needed advice, or when they just needed someone to talk to. She was always kind and caring to them, and always did her best to solve or otherwise help out with their problems. Angelica was a wonderful woman, and every day she encouraged them to do their absolute best, despite—or even in spite of—the countless adversities they faced every day at the Circle of Magi.

And now...now she was leaving them? Alistair didn't know if he could take that. What would life be like without her to guide them through the trials and tribulations of Kinloch Hold?

"I'm afraid this is necessary, children." Angelica soothed, after seeing that her Apprentices still weren't very keen to the idea.

"I simply have nothing else to teach. I have met my limits, unfortunately, in what areas I can instruct you children in. It is time for you all to move on to other Enchanters; teachers who will have an affinity for what specializations you have a talent for. That does not mean, however, that we must stop being friends! I enjoy you children dearly, and I would love for us all to remain friends, even if I am no longer teaching you all. Our lessons together may be coming to an end, but that does not mean we need to part ways. I will always be here for you, Alistair, Talia, Emilia, and Jowan. I'll always be here for you children. If you ever need me or want to talk to me, I'll always be available." she declared.

This finally mollified her students, to a degree, though Alistair himself was still stressed over the idea of leaving Angelica. Still, at least they could remain friends with her...

"Now, as I was saying," Angelica went on, "I have reached my limits in what I can teach you all. Over the years, you've all displayed certain affinities to certain branches of Magic. And thus, starting tomorrow, you will all be reassigned to different teachers to help you master said affinities."

The Enchanter paused in her speech, and briefly rifled through the satchel slung over her chair, pulling out four pieces of parchment. She then handed out the parchment to her Apprentices.

"I've taken the liberty to write down what I believe each of your special affinities are, and who I believe will best teach you, as well as my reasoning as to why I believe you excel most in that branch of Magic, and why that certain Enchanter would be best for you. I might have gotten a tad bit excessive, in that area, but I wanted to be thorough. And I wanted you children to know why I've made the recommendations I've made." she added.

As Alistair opened up his folded parchment and glanced through its contents, Angelica continued on once more, giving them all brief summaries of what she had written down.

"Jowan, you've shown a great deal of skill in wielding the Arcane, and spells centered around that branch of Magic. Thus, to help you gain a mastery over such talents, I believe sending you to Enchanter Riley is the best. He is a Master of the Arcane in the Circle, and his skill is unrivaled. He is an abrasive man, especially for an Isolationist, but I believe he will be best for you. I wish you luck, Jowan, and I hope you become a powerful Arcane Mage."

Jowan nodded, as he looked closely at his letter. He looked rather unsure of himself, and of what his future now held, but he nonetheless seemed prepared for the next step in his life as an Apprentice Magi.

"Emilia, you've shown a wonderful gift for Healing, and I would love to see it further developed. Such skill would help you immensely later in life, especially toward becoming a Court Mage for an important Nobleman. To help you grow in your abilities, our best and brightest Healer, Senior Enchanter Wynne, has agreed to Apprentice you. She is already teaching Anders the arts of Healing, just so you know, but Wynne is more than capable in teaching the both of you. Good luck, Emilia. I know you'll flourish under Wynne's tutelage."

Emilia gave a swift nod and a smile, beaming at Angelica's praise of her talents. She still looked teary-eyed at leaving their beloved Enchanter, but she tried to put on a brave face, all the same.

"Talia, you've shown a great proficiency in Spirit Magic. A most useful specialization to have, I daresay. While I dearly hope you never have to use some of the more dangerous spells in the Spirit branch of Magic, they would serve you well in all sorts of perilous situations. As a result, Senior Enchanter Sweeney has taken a special interest in teaching you. He is one of our foremost experts in Spirit Magic, at the Circle; and it doesn't hurt that he's especially concerned about you personally. I know how helpfully he's been to you, Talia, and how much he cares for you. The therapy sessions you attended with Sweeney during your first two years at the Circle went a long way in bringing you out of your shell. I can trust that you'll be under good hands with the Senior Enchanter."

Talia gave a demure nod and a sniffle. She still looked crushed that Angelica would no longer be her mentor, but the fact that Senior Enchanter Sweeney was now taking her under his wing appeared to make the Elven lass feel better.

"And Alistair," Angelica turned her gaze to the last of her Apprentices, and smiled. "You have shown incredible power and skill at Battlemagic. A rare talent for any Mage to possess, but one that shall serve you well if the Chantry ever calls upon us again to fight off another Qunari invasion or, Maker forbid, another Blight. Thus, our very own resident master Battlemage will be teaching you himself, Alistair! In fact, he's a great friend of mine, so I'm sure you'll do well under his care. Senior Enchanter Uldred may be a demanding man, but he is the best Mage in this Tower, I daresay. If anyone could teach you to master your power, Alistair, it would be Uldred."

Alistair sighed, but gave an accepting nod. He still didn't like the idea of leaving Angelica, but there was nothing he could do about it, right? And maybe this Uldred guy would be a good teacher, too...

Angelica gave her students one last heartfelt look, and smiled at them all. "I know this won't be an easy change to adjust to, children. But it is necessary for you all to move on as Apprentice Magi. Mastering your specializations will go a long way to make you full-blooded Magi, and give you all the skills necessary to pass your Harrowing. I will miss our lessons dearly, but keep in mind, this is not goodbye. This is...merely the beginning of a new stage in your lives. I am so very proud of you all, and I wish you all good luck in your future studies. Also, know that I will always be around if you need to talk to me, children."

Alistair and his friends nodded once more, and after a hesitant pause, they all rose up and moved to hug Angelica. The Enchanter gave a surprised smile at their actions, but accepted it. As she hugged her now former Apprentices tightly to her slim frame, Angelica couldn't help but get a little teary-eyed herself.

"We'll miss you a lot, Angelica! Even if we do still get to see you, it just won't be the same, not having your lessons anymore." Emilia said with a sniffle, hugging her teacher tighter. Angelica smiled sadly and ruffled the young girl's raven-black hair.

"I know, Emilia. It won't be the same for me, either." she said.

* * *

They spent the remainder of their morning lesson with Angelica asking her about their new teachers, about the areas of Magic that she believed they had a best affinity for, and so on and so forth. Finally, when that was done, she escorted them back to the Apprentice Dormitory, leaving them with some time to themselves before lunch began.

"I'm really going to miss her lessons. It's just not gonna be the same, learning Magic without Angelica." Emilia sighed, as she flopped down on an unoccupied bed.

"I k-know the feeling," Talia murmured, as she sat down next to the other girl. "I really l-liked having Angelica as our teacher. She was really good at it, too. Even if our new teachers are good, it just won't be the same as Angelica mentoring us..."

They all gave a collective sigh at that, and lapsed into silence. After a minute, Jowan, apparently trying to think of the bright side of things, eventually replied,

"Well, at least she'll still be around, if we need to talk to her. It's not like she's leaving the Circle. She's still here, thank the Maker."

"True." Emilia admitted with a small smile. "There is that, I suppose. It won't stop me from missing her lessons, though. Angelica is a great teacher, and we were lucky to have her."

Another silence came into being after Emilia spoke, leaving them to their thoughts. During the quiet moment, Alistair couldn't help but start to reflect on how much he and his friends had changed, during their almost four years of tutelage under Enchanter Angelica.

Talia had been brought out of her shell, over time. Angelica and Senior Enchanter Sweeney, whom Talia had seeing on and off for therapy sessions during the last few years, had played a huge part in helping her recover from the abuse she had received from Arl Urien. Now, she was a much more sociable and interactive young woman. She still had her problems, unfortunately; her speech still had a slight stutter to it, and she always shied away from boys that she didn't know well. But, overall, Talia had made some impressive strides toward a full recovery. And good for her, Alistair thought!

Emilia had become more sociable as well, and had made a great deal of friends outside their little group. Emilia knew most of the Apprentice Magi quite well at this point, and had even socialized some with other Enchanters. She was also one of the many people that had taken it upon themselves to greet and visit with any new child Mages that arrived at Kinloch Hold, giving them advice and whatnot about life in the Circle. Many of the younger Apprentices in the Circle were always coming to Emilia for advice these days; something she took great pride in dealing with. Alistair had no doubt that Emilia's friendliness would do her well in the Circle.

Jowan had come a long way, as well. While Emilia had been their little scholar in the beginning, Jowan had easily overcome her with time, as his interest in the Circle library grew over the intervening years. Jowan had delved into the wealth of knowledge contained within the Circle library, and had come off all the better for it. These days, he spent a great deal of his free time in the library, reading book after book filled with all sorts of intriguing lore; though they often had to drag him away from his precious books, when it came time for curfew. Still, Jowan absolutely loved reading the various assortment of books contained within the Circle. Alistair himself was rather glad he had found that particular hobby. It sure made Jowan incredibly helpful for their written work, that was for sure.

They had all grown older too, of course, as they all matured with age. His own voice, as well as Jowan's, had changed and deepened some time ago, which Alistair was rather grateful for. His new, more mature, voice certainly made him sound more...well, older, which he really liked. Made him more serious to take, for example! Well, as serious as a fourteen year old Mage could be taken, at any rate.

Talia and Emilia had...matured, as well. Their voices had changed some too, making them sound more adultike, as their voices lost the high-pitched quality of childhood. And they had...developed in other, much more significant, ways, too. Emilia had especially...matured, if what she looked like in her smallclothes was any indication...

N-Not like he was looking or anything, mind you! No sir! Not at all! Alistair had just gotten...accidental glimpses of Talia and Emilia in their smallclothes, as all the Apprentices changed clothes in the morning. That was all. Just accidental glimpses. No real intention of looking at them in such a state, at all. None whatsoever.

Suddenly, Emilia broke the silence. "Hey Alistair—"

"I wasn't looking at you in your smallclothes!" the reply came out immediately, before Alistair could properly get off that particular train of thought.

In the wake of that particular announcement, another dead silence filled the air.

Alistair flushed horribly as the young lad swiftly realized exactly what words had tumbled out of his mouth. He instantly berated himself for saying such an embarrassing thing, and at the same time started trying to think of something to say to get his dignity back.

As these thoughts swirled within his mind, Alistair finally, and carefully, looked over at Emilia, desperately praying that she hadn't heard him, somehow, and that he would be saved.

Emilia blinked once. Then twice. And then, a wide smile broke across her face, as she tilted her head at Alistair in wry amusement. "I'm sorry, what was that, Alistair?"

Oh no.

"I, um, ah, well..." Alistair nervously trailed off, completely failing at finding something decent to say to recover from that little pitfall.

Emilia smiled even wider at his bumbling performance, taking great enjoyment in his squirming. "I'm sorry, I don't think I heard that right. Did you just say you didn't look at me in my smallclothes?"

"Uh, well, I, ah..." Alistair continued to stammer and stutter, his mind spiraling into a complete cascade failure.

As this continued, Jowan started to snigger, and Talia looked at him with wide, entirely surprised, eyes.

"Oh my, Alistair! I never knew you were interested in me like that," Emilia giggled, delighted at his continued performance.

Finally, her words seemed to jar some sense back into the boy, as Alistair immediately replied, "No, wait! I-I misspoke! I, um, I wasn't...I wasn't looking at you in your smallclothes, Emilia! I wasn't! I swear! I'd never do that!"

Emilia tilted her head from side to side, considering his words at length. At last, she replied, "So...you were looking at _Talia_ in her smallclothes, then? Is that it?"

"Yes!" Alistair readily agreed, before her words fully registered in his brain. "Wait, I mean, no! I mean, um...um...ah..."

Unable to take it any longer, Jowan burst into full on laughter, with Emilia quickly joining him. His face bright red, Alistair looked down at the floor, waiting for the moment to pass. Similarly, Talia also turned a light shade of crimson, and looked down at her feet, although for different reasons.

"Sorry! I'm sorry, Alistair. I just couldn't resist teasing you. You gave me too good an opportunity," Emilia claimed, as her chuckles died down. She shook her head in a bemused manner, and gave her friend a forgiving smile. "Truth be told, I might have peeked at you in your smallclothes too, Alistair."

Once again, his mind blanked. "W-W-What—"

"Of course, I only did so because Talia was too shy to do it herself, and asked me to look instead," Emilia continued casually. Beside her, the already mildly embarrassed Talia whipped her head up with a gasp and looked over at Emilia, her eyes wide as saucers.

"N-N-N-N-N-N-N-No! No! No! I never asked you to do that, Emilia! I-I never did! Please, don't say such th-th-things!" Talia desperately denied, giving her friend a pleading look. Emilia chortled again, and waved her hand in a placating manner.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop! I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist using that punchline. Don't worry, I won't lie like that again." Emilia promised, giving both Alistair and Talia a wink.

Alistair just continued to set on his bed, trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, while Talia blew out a relieved sigh. While he was distracted, Emilia leaned over and whispered something into the Elven lass' ear, and the contents of said whisper caused Talia to blush horribly. She furiously shook her head at Emilia in reply. Emilia giggled again, and said something that sounded like, "Suit yourself, Talia."

After letting a minute or two to pass by and calm them all down, Emilia carefully asked, "So, where exactly did..._that_ come from, Alistair? It was a rather..._unexpected_ outburst, to say the least."

"Well, I was, ah, just thinking about how we've...changed and all, I guess. And one thought led to another..." Alistair admitted, flushing once more.

"I can see how that would happen," Jowan dryly remarked. Alistair sent him a dirty look, to which Jowan just shrugged and smirked.

"Well, we have all changed in lots of ways, haven't we?" Emilia mused with a wistful smile. "I remember just being a small and sheltered little girl when I arrived in the Circle, fearful of the new world around her. And look at me now! I'm almost four years into my Apprenticeship, and I've managed to make a workable life, around here. Quite the turnabout, I'd say."

The previous bout of embarrassment soon slipped past their minds, much to Alistair's relief, as they all contemplated the various ways in which they had all changed. A few minutes later, Jowan sighed, and declared,

"I'm gonna miss this, you know. Hanging out together...now that we're all going to different teachers to learn our specializations, we won't have as much time as we used to to hang out. And we aren't gonna even be in the same classes together anymore, too, so that won't help."

Emilia blinked, and her face fell. "Oh. I hadn't...oh. I hadn't quite realized that. Yes, we _are_ all going to different teachers, aren't we? No more classes with Angelica means no more attending any classes together at all..."

They all deflated at that sad reminder, Alistair included. He hadn't really thought of that, either, but it was true.

"Well. That sucks." Emilia eventually said, sighing. "I'm...I'm really gonna miss that too. But...we won't let that get in the way of our friendship, right?"

"Of course not!" Alistair agreed, determined not to let this bothersome fact get in their way. "We might not have as much time as we used to, and we won't be taking classes together anymore, but that shouldn't stop us from being friends! We still have the periods inbetween and after lessons to do stuff together, right? Nothing could take that away from us!"

"I agree with A-Alistair," Talia softly replied, a light smile on her face. "I'll...miss Angelica, and the time we had with her, but...we're still friends, no matter what."

"Well, it sounds like that's settled, then." Jowan declared, now in better spirits.

"Wonderful!" Emilia beamed. Her gaze settled over on Alistair, and she gave another wide smile. "So, time to change the subject to something more happy, yes? So...Alistair, I have to ask. Exactly when did you peek at me in my smallclothes, hm? I'm rather curious about that."

Alistair groaned, and buried his face in a pillow. Slightly muffled, he responded, "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never!" Emilia cheerily replied. Alistair groaned again, and started to wonder if perhaps smothering himself right now would save him from later embarrassment...

* * *

The rest of the day sped by in a blur, and soon enough Alistair found himself waking up to his first day of Battlemagic Lessons with Senior Enchanter Uldred. After a short breakfast, where Alistair found out that he was too nervous to eat much of anything, he returned to the Apprentice Dormitory and waited.

In time the various Enchanters and other teachers of the Apprentice Magi came to collect their students; making him miss Angelica already, as he knew she wouldn't be coming by to get him or any of his friends.

Halfway through the process, Enchanter Riley arrived, and took Jowan away; Alistair wished his friend good luck, and hoped Jowan would take nicely to this Riley fellow. Then Senior Enchanter Wynne arrived, and took both Emilia and Anders away; Alistair knew Wynne far better than he did Jowan's new teacher, and with Anders at her side, he was confident that Emilia was in good hands. Senior Enchanter Sweeney came by next and led Talia away; while he didn't know Sweeney all that well, he knew that the older man had done a good job of helping young Talia, so Alistair was sure she'd be fine with her new teacher, as well.

And finally, Senior Enchanter Uldred arrived. Or at least, that's who Alistair assumed the middle-aged, bald human man was, after he called out his name.

Alistair dutifully followed Uldred out of the dormitory, and eventually arrived into one of the many practice rooms housed within Kinloch Hold.

"It is nice to finally meet you in person, Alistair." Uldred began, giving the young lad a charming smile. "I am Senior Enchanter Uldred, though I suspect you already knew that. I am to be your teacher in the arts of Battlemagic, and I hope that, under my tutelage, you will become a master in this branch of Magic."

"It's, um, nice to meet you too, sir. And thank you; I, uh, hope that I'll learn a lot through your teachings." Alistair replied awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

Uldred noticed his hesitation and reluctance, and then gave him a lighter, more natural, smile. He went on to say,

"I understand that you miss Angelica, my boy. I know the feeling; all Circle Mages have gone through the same ordeal, as they have moved on to more specialized areas of Magic in their Apprenticeship, and thus onto different Enchanters. Thus, I won't pressure you into moving on, right now, or at all; everyone takes their own time in adjusting to change, especially in the Circle. But, if it helps you any, I'd be more than willing to tell you some stories I have of Angelica's youth; perhaps that will put you in a better mood, no?"

Alistair blinked in surprise. "You...knew Angelica back them, um, Senior Enchanter?"

"Please, call me Uldred, Alistair." Uldred replied with a wave of his hand. "And yes, I did. Truth be told, I was her general instructor, when she first came to the Circle of Magi. I have known her for many years, Alistair. She is...like a daughter to me, I suppose."

Alistair brightened considerably at this revelation; so Uldred was a good friend of Angelica's, then? He was even her teacher back when she just arrived at the Circle! That was wicked! Now he couldn't wait to get to know Uldred better. Anyone who knew Angelica like that was a great guy, for sure!

"That's awesome! I'm glad you're my new teacher then, Uldred. Any friend of Angelica's is a friend of mine!" Alistair eagerly replied.

At this, Uldred grinned. "And any student of Angelica's is more than welcome to call me a friend. I'm glad you're so enthused now, Alistair; I have no doubt in my mind that you shall flourish under my care. The people I teach become the best and brightest of the Circle; and you, no doubt, shall become apart of that exclusive group."

"Great! I'd like that, a lot. I beat it'd make Angelica proud of me," Alistair beamed.

"Of that, I have no doubt." Uldred replied with a chuckle. A hand went to the staff at his back, and unloosed it from the cloth that bound it there. Uldred then aimed his staff at a nearby stationary target in the room.

"Shall we start our first lesson together, then?"_  
_

* * *

___So, after some thinking, I've decided to go ahead and speed things up. I realized that I've been unnecessarily slow in the pace of the fanfic, at this point. So, I'll be speeding things up, now! There are some tales I'd still like to tell about Alistair's years of the Circle, sure, but I can just do those via flashback, if need be. And I've already toyed with the idea of making a spin-off fanfic, detailing Alistair's years at the Circle more._

___Anyway, just so you all know, I'll be increasing the pace of this fanfic. I predict that within the next two to three chapters, we shall arrive at Alistair's Harrowing! And from there, it won't be long until the Old God Urthemiel is awakened and Tainted by the Architect. _

___Also! I got a new DA fanfic up, and I encourage you all to read it! It's called _Worlds Apart___, and it details the strange and fascinating relationship between the Dalish and City Elf Origins, as they work together to end the Fifth Blight. It's a side project that I recently decided to do, and so far I quite like it._

___So that's it for now, I do believe. Don't forget to review! I like to hear the thoughts of my readers, good or bad. _


	17. Unexpected Revelations, Part 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it. _

* * *

**Interlude: Unexpected Revelations, Part 1**

As he watched his Apprentice practice his latest spell within the confines of the practice room, Uldred couldn't help but think that young Alistair was, quite simply, a _delight_ to teach.

It was incredibly rare for the Circle Mages of Fereldan to develop a talent for Battlemagic, and so it had been years since Uldred had last taught anyone these skills. Oh, sure, he was called upon now and again to become a general studies teacher for a new class of Apprentice Magi, when need be—that was actually how he had first met dear Angelica, so many years ago—but that wasn't his area of expertise at all! So it was a rare day indeed when Uldred was actually able to teach someone the skills he had become master at!

But at long last he was finally teaching an Apprentice Magi the arts of Battlemagic! And even better, young Alistair was a _natural_ in this branch of Magic, which was even more of a bonus! Truly, Senior Enchanter Uldred could not be more delighted to teach this boy. For the longest time he had yearned to teach a new Apprentice who was capable of undertaking the rigorous but powerful Battlemage Specialization. And now, here he was, doing just that!

Truly, the Maker, or some sort of omnipotent deity, was smiling upon him in favor!

It wasn't just that, though, that make Uldred glad to teach Alistair. The boy was also the perfect student: he asked intelligent questions, he showed a great desire to master his talents, and he soaked up the knowledge Uldred offered to him at every lesson. It had been a long time since Uldred had had a pupil so eager to learn like Alistair. In fact, if memory served, only Angelica had ever reached that high level of enthusiasm; no doubt Alistair got a good deal of his desire for the pursuit of Magical knowledge from the Elven Enchanter herself.

Overall, young Alistair was a splendid boy to teach, and spending these past three months with him had been quite the treat. Assuming he passed his Harrowing, Uldred had no doubt that Alistair would have a bright and promising future at the Circle of Magi; a future that Uldred was more than happy to take part of, if given the chance...

"Very good, Alistair! Very good!" Uldred beamed, after his Apprentice's Hand of Winter spell finally began to die down.

The boy looked rather drained after unleashing such a powerful and devastating spell, but smiled nonetheless, in appreciation for his teacher's praise. Giving a speculative glance over at the shattered remains of the practice dummy, Alistair said,

"Thanks, Uldred! I'm glad I finally got the hang of that spell. Never thought I'd ever master it, after my first few unsuccessful tries."

"Nothing is entirely impossible to master, my dear boy, especially spells. We all might struggle to learn something new now and again, of course, but with plenty of practice and patience, such struggles can be overcome." Uldred gently reassured.

Alistair gave an understanding nod. "Right, Angelica always said something similar. Well, either way, I'm glad I finally got that down!"

"As am I," Uldred replied with a smile. "Now—"

The door to the practice room suddenly slammed opened, and a young female Mage burst into the room, appearing quite flustered and out of breath.

"Alistair! There you are! I—" the young girl cut herself off, and blinked as she took in Uldred's presence. She had the grace to blush, and immediately started apologizing.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Senior Enchanter! I hadn't realized you were still teaching Alistair this morning. He's usually done around this time, so I, um, thought that—"

"Don't worry, we were just about done anyway." Uldred replied with a genial smile. "What is it you came to tell Alistair, Miss...?"

"Emilia Amell, Sir." Emilia answered, before turning toward Alistair. "I just wanted to let you know, Alistair...Ser Otto and his Templars have returned. They've brought Anders back."

Young Alistair's eyes widened in shock. "R-Really? I thought for sure...well, is he...?"

"He's fine, as far as I can tell. A little bruised up, but nothing too bad," Emilia promptly reassured. "Though he's under close Templar guard, just like last time. For now, though, he's back in the Apprentice Dormitory, talking up a storm about his latest escape attempt."

"I see." Alistair gave a small sigh and turned to his mentor, giving the older man a pleading look. "Um, Uldred, do you think —!"

"Of course, Alistair. Go to your friend. I imagine Anders is eager to see and speak with you again, after being gone for two months." Uldred replied, granting his student a knowing smile.

"Great!" Alistair perked up, and smiled widely at his teacher. "I really appreciate this, Uldred. I promise I'll practice extra hard for our next lesson tomorrow, just to make up for leaving before we were done!"

"It's no trouble at all, Alistair. Friendship is important, after all." Uldred responded, his eyes trailing after Alistair as, a hurried moment later, the young boy and his female companion left the room. Uldred shook his head, but could not fault his Apprentice.

After all, Alistair had no idea if he would ever see Anders again, each time the reckless youth made his escape attempts. And even then, if he were brought back...! The horrors that could be brought upon poor Anders! It was truly a sorrowful day when an escaped Mage was brought back to the Circle, Even if it meant that person was still alive and quite well, Tranquilization was likely to forced upon the offending Mage to prevent further escape attempts. So he may as well have died trying to attain a life free from the Chantry.

But...that had not yet happened to Anders. Through some stroke of luck, the boy hadn't been made a Tranquil yet; and he'd already tried to escape _six times! _That was five times too many for any Mage who tried to leave the Circle on a permanent basis. A Mage was either already Tranquil or dead before one could attempt to escape more than once!

And yet, Anders continued to defy the odds. Most likely, Uldred hypothesized, this was due to a combination of facts, these being: First Enchanter Irving's forgiving nature, Anders still being an Apprentice Magi, and his useful aptitude for Healing Magic.

Irving had an unusual amount of sway with Knight-Commander Greagoir, and he always believed in giving people second chances, so the First Enchanter no doubt tempered his counterpart's desire to make the irritable prankster one of the Tranquil; Anders was also still two or three years away from his Harrowing as well, due to coming to the Circle at a late age, despite already being a near adult at seventeen years of age; and the boy was one of the most talented Healers to come out of the Circle since Wynne herself, making him an invaluable asset to retain and control.

Adding those factors together, it wasn't too surprising that Anders was still alive and _mostly_ unmolested by the Templars. But, this wouldn't last forever, Uldred knew. Anders had gotten lucky so far, but that luck would run out eventually. One day Irving wouldn't be able to hold back Greagoir's rage, one day he would take his Harrowing and either pass or die, and one day even the fact that he was a master Healer wouldn't save Anders from the wraith of his captors.

One day, Anders would finally test the patience of the Templars at Kinloch Hold, and he'd either have his forehead branded and be made Tranquil, or he'd lose his head altogether. Either way, his luck could not and _would not _last.

And so, Uldred couldn't fault Alistair for abandoning the remainder of their lesson together, to go visit with his newly returned friend; because one day, Anders wouldn't just get a slap on the wrist, more or less, after being recaptured by the Templars. One day Alistair might see him serving food at breakfast as one of the Tranquil, or he'd never see his friend ever again, period. Thus, Alistair had best enjoy his friendship with Anders while it still lasted.

Such was the plight of the Mages of Thedas. Such was their tragedy.

Though...while Uldred didn't try to make it a habit of his to defend the Templars, that fool Anders didn't exactly make things _easy _for himself. This whole mess could have been avoided, if Anders were _smart _and actually _thought things out!_

A _smart_ Mage might wait until his Harrowing before making any escape attempts at all. A _smart_ Mage would take years and years and years to plot his escape. A _smart_ Mage would give the appearance of compliance and subservience, to fool the Templars. A _smart_ Mage would do all of that, and more, to engineer a cunning escape from the Circle of Magi.

A pity that Anders wasn't a _smart_ Mage. Had the boy any sort of brain between his ears, this would have occurred to him years ago! Instead, he kept on needlessly antagonizing his jailers, and raising their suspicions and frustrations more and more with each subsequent escape attempt. If Anders kept on pulling stunts like that, then he'd bring his eventual death or Tranquilization upon himself.

After musing over the matter a moment more, Uldred finally decided to shake his head of such thoughts. In the end, it wasn't his concern, what Anders decided to do in the Tower. In the grand scheme of things, Anders hardly mattered at all.

With that thought firmly in mind, Uldred finally made his own exit from the practice room a full minute later, after doing his best to tidy up the place as best as he could. He started walking through the halls of the Tower, heading off toward his personal quarters.

After climbing up the stairs to the next floor, a Mage a few years older than Uldred himself walked into step with him. For a few seconds they spoke no words to each other, as a Templar patrol rounded the corner. The marching Templars briefly glared at Uldred and his companion, suspicious of their close proximity. But, it was not yet illegal for two Mages to simply walk near each other at Kinloch Hold, and so they did nothing to stop them.

Once the Templars were out of sight, and well out of eavesdropping range, Uldred deemed to speak with the man beside him.

"You may speak, Enchanter Gravid." Uldred began, nodding slightly to the darker skinned Mage.

Gravid gave a demure nod of acknowledgment, and stated in hushed, soft-spoken tones, "It seems a new rat has taken the bait, Senior Enchanter."

"Oh? Is that so?" Uldred regarded his companion with keen interest, and motioned for him to go on.

"Indeed," Gravid confirmed. "It seems that this rat has followed the trail of breadcrumbs that were mysteriously left behind, and is now following it to its source. It seems very eager to find where, exactly, the trail leads."

"I see. An interesting development. Tell me, is the rat in danger of being caught by one of our mousers?" Uldred inquired lightly. Gravid shook his head.

"Not at the moment, no. This particular rat has been very careful, and very smart, in its endeavors. If it is to be found by one of our cats, they'll likely have to have outside help." Gravid added.

Uldred nodded once more, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed the Enchanter. "I see. Well, we shall have to talk about this more later, I'm afraid. There isn't much time to discuss this further. Until next time, Enchanter Gravid. Good day."

Gravid gave a slight bow, and made his way off. As he departed, the Senior Enchanter considered Gravid's words one last time.

This was a most welcome development, to say the least! It was about time that an Apprentice Magi had begun following this particular trail. Uldred would follow this case closely, and he would doubly ensure that this would be an item of interest to discuss in the next meeting with his own sect of the Libertarian Fraternity. Amongst his own followers, the Senior Enchanter had no doubt that they'd come up with a good strategy on how to proceed with this case.

And who knew? Perhaps they would soon have a new Initiate on their hands, if all went according to plan! And if not, well...

Either way, this development would be resolved. Whether or not it ended poorly, depended entirely upon the actions of the new Initiate.

"Senior Enchanter Uldred?" a monotone voice broke the older Mage from his thoughts, and Uldred turned to see a Tranquil standing behind him.

Without preamble, the Tranquil intoned, "The First Enchanter has sent me to let you know that he has agreed to your meeting in the library today. That is all. Do you wish me to carry a reply message?"

"Simply let Irving know that I shall be waiting for him," Uldred replied, after a moment's consideration. The Tranquil gave him a brisk nod, and drifted away.

Uldred eyed the Tranquil as he left, and then gave a snort of derision.

"Still using the Tranquil as errand boys, I see. You've picked up some nasty habits from the Knight-Commander, Irving..."

Banishing that train of thought from his mind, Uldred decided to focus on the Tranquil's message. So, Irving agreed to meet with him? Good, very good. It was finally time to tie up some loose ends, then.

* * *

An hour later, Uldred sat at a small table in the Circle library, pretending to read the book he currently held in his hands. A moment later he was joined by an elderly man, an Antivan romance novel gripped in his palm. The older Mage opened his book and pretended to read as well, though his eyes focused on a nearby bookshelf; specifically, through a gap where it seemed a few books were missing. Through that gap, an older Apprentice could be seen talking with another Mage.

"That's him over there, Irving." Uldred murmured to his companion, though unlike the First Enchanter, he kept his eyesight fixated on the book before him. "The Apprentice talking with Enchanter Aldous."

First Enchanter Irving studied the young man with a critical eye, and looked back over at his companion. With a note of concern in his tone, he inquired, "You are sure, Uldred? These are not accusations to be lightly made, and it will force the involvement of Greagoir and his Templars."

Uldred sighed, and nodded his head.

"Yes, Irving. I am sure. I have read Knight-Divine Franco's treatise on _The Markings of a Blood Mage_ a thousand times over, at least! And, even if I didn't know it at the time, my own teacher was a Blood Mage, as well! So I happen to know more than enough about Blood Magic, Irving, to be able to tell if a person is dabbling in it. Apprentice Hadrian displays all the signs. It is clear to me, and no doubt to you, now that I've brought him to your attention, that Hadrian is a Blood Mage." the Senior Enchanter summarized.

Irving sighed himself, and brought up a hand to massage his temples. After a brief period of contemplation, he said, "Yes...now that you've pointed these things out, Uldred, I agree with your supposition that Apprentice Hadrian has turned to Blood Magic. Still...this is a tragedy in the making, I fear. Greagoir will need to be informed about this at once...and if Hadrian does not willingly submit, it'll end in bloodshed. I do not mean to doubt you or your skills, Uldred. I know fully well how you've been made into an expert on Blood Magic. It does not mean, however, that I like it when it's revealed that one of our own has resorted to such a vile practice."

"I know, my friend. Such a fact disheartens me as well," Uldred declared, a mournful expression upon his face. "Still, we both know that it is for the best that they are reported to the Templars. Otherwise, a cult of Blood Mages could very well form within the Tower! And what a disaster that would be! Clearly, this is our only option. The death of any Mage at Templar hands saddens me, but we both know what the punishment of Blood Magic is."

"You are right, Uldred. We cannot help or save Hadrian now. He made his choice when he chose to dabble in such forbidden arts." Irving sighed once more, and turned his spying gaze away. "Well, thank you for your help, Uldred. This is a nasty business...but I am glad to have an ally in this endeavor, all the same. Your inside knowledge of Blood Magic is invaluable in rooting out Blood Mages. So I thank you for your help. Now, I suppose I shall go inform Greagoir of this development..."

The First Enchanter gently rose from his chair, and walked away. Once he was out of sight, Uldred finally allowed himself to glance over at the still visible Apprentice Hadrian. He slowly shook his head and mused,

"Such a waste of talent, this is! But, poor choices are made everyday, I suppose..."

A moment later Uldred rose himself, and deposited his book upon the table, where it would no doubt be put back into place later, by one of the librarians.

He was halfway out of the library when a hushed voice called for his attention.

"Uldred! Over here!"

The Senior Enchanter blinked, and paused. Cocking his head to the source of the sound, he spotted a familiar red-headed Elven lass waving at him from a nearby table.

A smile immediately appeared on his face, and Uldred eagerly rushed over to his caller. "Ah, Angelica! A pleasure as always, my dear. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, don't be so formal, Uldred!" Angelica was quick to say, a bright smile also on her face. "I just...wanted to catch up, is all. It's been awhile since we had a nice long talk, and when I saw you pass by, I figured, there's no time like the present! Unless...are you busy, or..."

"Don't worry, my dear. I can always make time to chat with a former Apprentice of mine, Angelica. So, what's on your mind, hm?" Uldred inquired.

"How's Alistair? Is he doing alright?" Angelica swiftly asked.

"Alistair is doing just fine, Angelica." Uldred reassured, grinning widely as he gave a brief chuckle. "That boy is simply a delight to teach, I daresay! He has a great aptitude for Battlemagic, and he's a wonderful student in general. No doubt he has taken the latter quality from you!"

"Who knows? Anything is possible. Alistair had an adorable crush on me when he first came under my care, so it wouldn't surprise me to learn he's taken after me some," Angelica softly giggled, and shook her head in amusement.

"Oh, how cute that crush was! It reminded me of the crush I had on you when I was just a girl, Uldred. Remember that? My, how time flies, no? Well, I'm glad to hear that Alistair is doing all right. From all accounts, Emilia and Talia are flourishing well under Senior Enchanters Wynne and Sweeney. Jowan seems to be having some trouble with Enchanter Riley, but I've talked with him, and he's promised to go easier on the lad." Angelica smiled fondly at the thought of her former students, and sighed. She stared down at the tabletop and slowly traced a symbol on it with her finger.

"I've taught a few classes before Alistair and the others, of course, but...my connection with them, it's...different, I think. I'm so much closer with those four children than I've ever been with anyone else I've taught. After all, they were the first group of Apprentice Magi I got to teach after...after..." Angelica's voice faltered, and she stopped speaking altogether.

At once, Uldred reached over and took Angelica's hand into his, gently squeezing it. Angelica sniffled, and nodded her appreciation. With her free hand, she wiped at her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she eventually replied. "I...even after all this time, it's still...difficult, to think about that time."

After discreetly glancing around to ensure no one was listening, Uldred leaned in and firmly stated, "The loss of a child...it is a tragedy I cannot even bear to comprehend, and the fact that you managed to emerge from such an experience at all, is a testament that speaks greatly to your will and courage. And even if that event is years past, now, the wounds of such a thing can linger for a long, long time. So you have _nothing_ to be sorry about, my dear Angelica."

The Elven Enchanter sniffled again, but smiled gratefully at her comforter. She took a moment to compose herself, and said, "Thank you, Uldred. You always know what to say. I don't know where I'd be today, if it weren't for you. Especially considering how...helpful you were, after that horrible...event."

"It was my pleasure, Angelica." Uldred replied with a gentle smile. "Like I've always said, I consider you to be like the daughter I never had, my dear. So whenever you need my help, I'll always be here to provide my services."

Angelica smiled fondly at her longtime mentor and friend, and gave a happy sigh. After a moment of peaceful silence, Uldred hesitatingly asked,

"I know it is not my place, Angelica, but...I am curious. Did you...ever give him a name?"

The Enchanter nodded, a much more sorrowful expression overtaking her face. "Thank you for asking, Uldred. I do not mind at all. Yes...yes, I did. I...decided to name him Henry, after his father."

"A strong, good name. It will serve your child well in the Maker's side." Uldred murmured approvingly. Angelica smiled slightly at the comment.

"I'm glad you think so, Uldred. I'm honestly not sure if the Maker even exists at all, myself...but if He does, then I'm content to know that both my son and his father are by His side, and in a much better place, overall." she replied, her voice laden in a bittersweet tone.

Another silence descended upon Master and Apprentice, soon enough, and Uldred and Angelica took a moment to simply enjoy each others company, and think upon events long passed. Eventually, however, it came to an end, as Angelica gently stood up from her chair.

"It's been nice catching up, Uldred." she said, a genuine smile flowing across her visage. "But there are things I must do, I'm afraid, and no doubt you have some commitments as well. But we should try to talk again soon! I do enjoy our chats."

"As do I, dear Angelica." Uldred smoothly replied, rising to his feet. "Until next time, then!"

"Until next time," Angelica confirmed. "And do tell Alistair that I said hi. I've been so busy, that I haven't had a lot of time to catch up with him, either. I should fix that, soon..."

With that thought in mind, Angelica left the library. After she was gone, Uldred soon left as well; though not before looking over at Apprentice Hadrian, one last, and final, time.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon when Uldred completed his final lesson of the day with Alistair. The young lad was flushed and overall tired from another rigorous Battlemagic training session, but he was in overall good spirits as the lesson ended.

"I'm glad to see your stamina for these spells is improving, Alistair." Uldred remarked, as they left the practice room. "You're much more able to handle them, now, then you were at the beginning. These spells drain quite a bit of magic, so it's a good thing that your Magical Core is adjusting to using up so much power in just a few spells."

"Thanks, Uldred." Alistair beamed, smiling brightly at his mentor. "It was hard work, but I wasn't about to let anything stop me from doing my best at Battlemagic! And those exercises you taught me to do to help expand my magic reserves really did the trick, too!"

"Ah, it's good to hear you've been following my recommendations, Alistair. Truly, you're a wonderful student to teach." Uldred declared with a grin. Alistair blushed, but continued to bask in his teacher's praise.

Uldred paused midstep, suddenly, as something occurred to him. He slung his satchel off from his shoulder, and pursed through the contents of the bag, briefly, before sighing and shaking his head. Catching Alistair's questioning gaze, he said,

"Well, it seems I left some of my Lyrium potions back in the practice room. I'd better retrieve them before someone finds them and steals them from me. Do go on without me, Alistair. I'm sure you have better things to do then chat with me on your way to the Apprentice Dormitory."

Despite Alistair's protests that he wouldn't, in fact, mind waiting on Uldred to come back, the Senior Enchanter soon shooed the boy away. Once he was out of sight, Uldred did indeed turn back and return to the practice room they had just so recently left. However, within the confines of the room, there wasn't a single sign of any forgotten Lyrium potions. Uldred took a small knife from his satchel, and walked over to the wall on the east side of the room. There, he carved a largely innocuous symbol that, to anyone else, would mean nothing at all. But, to those who were..._enlightened, _they would know the meaning of the symbol immediately.

Once he was finished, the Senior Enchanter paused to overlook his handy work. Once he was confident with his drawing, Uldred stowed the knife away, and walked out of the practice room.

As he traversed the halls of Kinloch Hold, Uldred was nearly at the staircase to the quarters of the Senior Enchanters, when the faint sounds of a shouting match caught his ear. Sufficiently intrigued, the older Mage paused in his journey and detoured to the source of the noise. What he found worried and angered him, at the same time:

A Templar was yelling at Alistair, and whatever their argument, it did not appear to be going in Alistair's favor.

"I have it on good authority that a Mage matching your description was spotted near the Knight-Commander's office around the time it was broken into! And I have no doubt that _you're _the Mage I'm looking for, boy! Now admit your crime!" the Templar before Alistair bellowed, glaring threateningly at the young Mage before him.

Alistair, however, wasn't so easily cowed by the Templar's accusations. The young boy stood his ground bravely, and glared back at the Templar.

"Like I told you," Alistair ground out, his voice strained with held back anger. "I didn't steal _anything _from the Knight-Commander! Andraste's Nightgown, I haven't even been anywhere near his office! I've been on this floor for most of the afternoon. I am _not _the thief you're looking for!"

The Templar bristled, and leaned down menacingly, getting right into Alistair's face.

"I don't like your tone, Mage! Respect my authority, and admit to your crimes! I will not tolerate your lies any further!" the Templar decreed, as his hand slowly drifted to his sword.

Uldred scowled and reddened with anger. Whoever this foolish brute was, he chose the wrong Apprentice to bully.

"Is there a problem here?" Uldred inquired tightly, as he moved over to them. Alistair glanced over at him with relief, while the Templar stared piercingly at him.

"This is none of your concern, Mage. Go now. Unless you want to confess to being this boy's accomplice in his crime?" the Templar threatened. Uldred, however, did not back down.

"I am afraid that my Apprentice speaks the truth, Sir. He can't possibly be your thief. He has been training with me the entire afternoon, far away from whenever this break-in in the Knight-Commander's office occurred." the Senior Enchanter stated.

"Is that so?" the Templar growled out, glaring fiercely at him, now. "You know what I think, Mage? I think you're trying to cover for him. I think you're _both _guilty for this crime, and now you're just trying to cover your tracks! Well, I'm onto the both of you! I will _not _tolerate these lies any further! Come with me, or I will—"

"Recruit William. What is going on here?" a new voice entered into the fray, stopping the raving Templar short. Knight-Commander Greagoir marched into view, casting a questioning glance at his subordinate.

The Templar identified as William immediately replied, "I've found your thieves, Sir! It's these two Mages!"

Greagoir glanced over at Uldred and Alistair, and raised an eyebrow. "I give you one simple task, Recruit. Find the thief who broke into my office, and stole some of my brandy. And you tell me these two are our thieves? Unlikely. You are new to the Tower, so I'll forgive you for your ignorance. You see, one of the men you're accusing is Senior Enchanter Uldred, and while I find him aggravating to no end, I know he's not a thief. And the other..."

Here, Greagoir trailed off, as he took a closer look at Alistair. The Knight-Commander's eyes widened with recognition, and the towering man immediately stiffened and paled quite a bit. His head snapped toward William and he glared at the recruit with unrestrained fury.

"Recruit! You _dare _to accuse—!" Greagoir stopped himself, glancing at Alistair once more, before returning his gaze to William. "This accusation is unfounded, and I will not tolerate _any_ abuse of authority! You will report to my office immediately for punishment. Do you understand?"

"B-But Sir!" William protested, stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"You heard me, recruit. Now go!" Greagoir barked. A dazed and shocked look in his eyes, William dimly nodded and numbly walked away.

Greagoir brought back his gaze to Uldred and his Apprentice, and gave a formal nod. "I apologize for the...inconvenience, Senior Enchanter, Apprentice. William was just recently transferred to the Tower, and he still has some...issues to work through, apparently, before his probationary period ends. I hope this was not too much of a trouble."

With that said, Greagoir turned and marched away, his stride swiftly removing him from sight. Uldred could only stare at the Knight-Commander's retreating form with stunned confusion, as he tried to process what _exactly _just happened.

"_Greagoir was already doubtful when he looked at me, but when he recognized Alistair...his demeanor changed immediately..." _Uldred thought, as the cogs in his mind turned and turned. _"There was...something in his eyes, when he stared at the lad. Something...I've never seen from a Templar."_

"_Fear."_

"What just happened, Uldred?" Alistair finally asked, after a few minutes of silence. Uldred blinked, torn away from his thoughts, and stared down at his Apprentice with renewed interest.

"I...do not know, Alistair." Uldred confessed, looking at the young boy in an entirely new light. "But...I shall try to find out. In the meantime, I believe it is best to put this incident behind yes, and go about our separate ways for the day. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure." Alistair replied, shaking his head in confusion. "That'd be best, for sure. Man, that was weird. I've _never _seen the Knight-Commander so...worked over, like that."

"Neither have I," Uldred softly said. His mind continued to turn over a question that had now arisen into his consciousness, a query that would haunt him until he had discovered the answer:

Why was Knight-Commander Greagoir, the most powerful man in the Fereldan Circle of Magi, _afraid _of Alistair?

* * *

_In Origins, it is mentioned several times that Senior Enchanter Uldred was great at rooting out Blood Mages in the Fereldan Circle of Magi; yet, during the Broken Circle quest, it is revealed that Uldred himself was a Blood Mage, and led a Blood Mage cult! How curious, then, that Uldred became renowned for exposing his own kind? It makes one wonder...did he have an ulterior motive in ousting these Blood Mages? Did they not fit in with his ideology, or did they reject any offers to join his cult, or something of the like? Questions upon questions; either way, Uldred is a fascinating fellow, and it's clear he's not above sentencing his fellow Mages to death. _

_Also, I apologize for the late delivery of this fanfic; however, once I reached the last two weeks or so of college, I just decided to put aside this fanfic and just deal with all that nonsense. But, thankfully, I'm pretty much done with this semester now! And so I've finally gotten around to updating _Alistair the Mage_! _

_So, about the 'part 1' thing. This Interlude ended up being WAY longer than I thought it'd be, so I decided to split it up into two, to make things easier for me. Just so you guys know! Expect Part 2 to come out, hopefully, within the next week or so. _

_Three chapters to go, I do believe! I foresee only a minimum of three, or so, more chapters that I'll need to write, before we can finally get to Alistair's Harrowing. And from there, the fic will REALLY pick up! Oh, the plans I have for the Fifth Blight...I can't WAIT to get to all that. So many wonderful, wonderful plans..._

_Anyway, enough on that. See you all on the next installment of _Alistair the Mage_!_


	18. Unexpected Revelations, Part 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age: Origins, or anything else associated with the Dragon Age franchise. BioWare owns it, more or less. And I am in no way affiliated with BioWare. So please don't sue me; trust me, you wouldn't get any real money out of it._

* * *

**Interlude: Unexpected Revelations, Part 2**

As Templars, Chantry priests, and Mages alike slumbered in the darkened halls of Kinloch Hold, Uldred and his men met in the shadows deep within the cellars. There, they had no fear of being caught or otherwise molested, as the next Templar patrol would not arrive for another half hour, and so they would have plenty of time to meet and share news.

In pairs of two, they all drifted in, until nearly all the upper echelons of Uldred's little group of Blood Mage Libertarians arrived. The men and women present chattered amongst themselves in soft, quiet tones until their leader, Senior Enchanter Uldred, entered the cellars.

"Good evening, everyone. I trust that we've all had a pleasant night so far? Good. Now, let's get started," Uldred began, as he settled down on one of the hastily moved barrels that served as his chair. "Enchanter Gravid tells me that we have a new potential Initiate on our hands. So, I would like to know: who is our candidate?"

Enchanter Rhonus, an middle-aged Elven gentleman sporting a cropped beard, helpfully supplied, "A young girl by the name of Anabel, only a year away from her Harrowing. Currently, she is serving under Enchanter Helena, a known Loyalist. Anabel specializes in Entropy Magic, and from what we can gather, she leans toward and has sympathies for Libertarian views."

Uldred nodded to his companion, and asked, "I see. So, if her teacher is not one of our own, who was it that made the recommendation?"

"It was Enchanter Prist. She's always on the lookout for new talent, and Anabel happened to catch her eye." Enchanter Boson replied, staring over at her compatriot; her one remaining pupil seemed to gaze deeply into his soul.

"Ah, it was Prist? Then Anabel comes highly recommended," Uldred approved, a grand smile etched across his face. "So, then, this girl has taken greatly to our trail of breadcrumbs, eager to learn more of, and eventually master, Blood Magic. I presume she is undertaking this task to improve her chances at passing her Harrowing?"

"That's what it looks like, Senior Enchanter." Gravid confirmed with a slight nod of his head.

"I figured as much; the fear of the Harrowing, more often than not, is the main reason Apprentice Magi try to learn Blood Magic. It goes to show that, if the Harrowing is good for one thing, it gives us a wide pool of desperate Mages that will become Initiates for our group. How ironic, that a test designed by the pious Chantry to 'test' Mages ends up leading to many of our kind to become the very thing they hate and fear: Blood Mages! My, but the Chantry didn't think that through!" Uldred mused, a wry smile on his face.

He then went on, after clearing his head of such thoughts. "Keep a close eye on Anabel. If she does not get herself caught in her endeavors, and if she manages to pass her Harrowing, then she will have fully proven herself to us. And, if even after all of that, she refuses to join our organization...well, I suppose, then, that she shall be forced into suffering a similar fate to the unfortunate Apprentice Hadrian."

"As you wish, Senior Enchanter." Enchanter Gravid replied with a grave nod.

"Good. Now, with that settled, what else is on our agenda for this meeting?" Uldred inquired.

Enchanter Rhonus cleared his throat, and uttered, "We've received word from our colleague in Kirkwall that Senior Enchanter Orsino is on the verge of being declared the First Enchanter of their Circle. Knight-Commander Meredith does not openly disapprove of his potential appointment, so it is likely that Orsino will be confirmed within the month."

"Good, good." Uldred murmured, considering the matter further. "It will be a great victory for the Libertarians, if Orsino is successful. I must admit, though, it is surprising that Meredith is allowing this to happen...from all accounts, the Kirkwall Circle is ruled by her and her Templars with an iron fist. Perhaps the Blood Mages there are leading her mind astray? Well, it matters not. So long as Orsino is successful, I am content. Gravid, have someone prepare a letter of congratulations to Orsino, as well as a good bottle of Antivan wine. I imagine he'll appreciate the gift."

"Of course, Senior Enchanter." Gravid acknowledged.

"Now, what is next on the agenda?" Uldred asked.

This time, it was Enchanter Boson that spoke up. "We have received word from our sources in the Collective that Tevinter has set up shop in Denerim."

That bit of news caused quite the stir within the coven of Blood Mages. Many of Uldred's colleagues murmured with each other over this concerning development, as the Senior Enchanter himself brought his hands together, deep in thought. After a few minutes of this, he held up his palm, motioning for silence.

"I see. A most intriguing and troublesome happening...what do we know about their operations? Has the Collective been able to gather any intelligence?" he asked of his subordinate.

"Not much, Senior Enchanter. The Tevinters are keeping a close eye on anyone who pokes in too deeply into their affairs. My source in the Collective suspects that they are already performing Blood Magic on local Templar patrols, to keep them from noticing their presence." Boson replied.

"Hm. I see." Uldred frowned, a feeling of distaste forming within him. While he appreciated the fact that Tevinter was a haven for Mages...that did not mean he liked their practices. Of the Blood Magic, he had no problem with, of course. To feel otherwise would be hypocritical. But Uldred did not like slavery. At all. The fact that the Tevinters still practiced it didn't sit well with him at all. No doubt even as they spoke, the Tevinter Mages were collecting useful Elves and Humans to bring back home to be sold as slaves...

"This is a troubling development, but it is far beyond our reach. The Collective likely won't interefere with the Tevinters much, and try to coexist with them as peacefully as they can. I do not like the thought that Slavers have set up shop in Denerim, but there is little we can do about it." Uldred finally decided. His comrades gave reluctant sighs over that unfortunate fact, but there was no vocal protest over this stance.

"Now..." Uldred trailed off, as the group's lookout drifted into the room. At once, Uldred stood up, and motioned for his fellows to do the same.

"I'm afraid we'll have to cut this meeting short, my friends." the Senior Enchanter declared. "It seems the Templar patrol is coming by earlier than expected. We shall meet again when time favors such a gathering. Perhaps then we shall have more time to talk amongst ourselves."

At once, the assembled Mages went to work, and set about removing every trace that they had been in the cellars, by having the moved barrels put back into place, and having the previously lit torches snuffed out. Slowly they all drifted away from the cellars, once again in pairs, as they scurried off to their rooms. Soon enough all Mages in the area were gone, and by the time the Templar patrol came around, their was nothing left for them to find.

* * *

Some time after the end of the meeting with his cult of Blood Mages, Senior Enchanter Uldred continued to stay up, drumming his fingers softly against the hard wood of the writing desk in his personal chambers. Sleep called to him, but his mind was unable to rest, due to the conundrum that currently plagued the Mage; and until he found a way to deal with this...problem, Uldred _had _to stay up.

There was simply no other option for him; none that his mind would allow, at least.

"Now this is an interesting mystery," Uldred murmured to himself, as he leaned back into his chair, his hands folded together onto his stomach. He played back the events of the late afternoon continuously in his mind, picking apart every detail as the scene filtered through his memory. And still, despite that amount of analysis, he was unable to come up with the answer to a most intriguing and frustrating question:

"_Why was the Knight-Commander afraid of Alistair?"_

This mystery had bothered him throughout the day, and even in the solitude of his own personal chambers, where he could think unmolested, the Senior Enchanter had difficulty coming up with an answer.

It was a perplexing paradox, to say the least. On the surface of things, there was no real reason why Knight-Commander Greagoir, Lord and Master over all in the Ferelden Circle of Magi, would have any fear toward, or any reason to fear, Alistair. Some Templars instinctively feared Mages, true, but Greagoir, for the most part, was not one of those men. He was made of much sterner stuff, and did not give into base fears without good reason. Not to mention the fact that Alistair was still a child!

So what reason would Greagoir have to fear the lad, then? Truly, _none _of this made _any_ sense. Still, though...even if, by all rights, none of this should have been happening...it _was_, much to the Senior Enchanter's disbelief.

_Something _was making Greagoir afraid of Alistair; that much was abundantly clear. But by the Maker's name, _what was it?! _

The answer to that question, or the lack thereof, was just _killing _Uldred! He _had _to know the answer, especially if it gave him some useful intel, or leverage over Greagoir! So, what was it? And more importantly, how could he find out?

It wasn't like he could ask Alistair, after all; the boy clearly had no idea why Greagoir was afraid of him. Uldred suspected that Alistair hadn't even noticed the Knight-Commander's fear of him. He couldn't talk to Alistair about this, and asking Greagoir himself was also out of the question...so, then, what was his alternative?

"_Greagoir's office...it could be the key."_ the Senior Enchanter nodded at that stray thought.

Hm...perhaps the knowledge he sought could be found there? It was certainly a possibility. Whatever it was that made him fear Alistair, the Knight-Commander could have evidence pointing as to 'why' hidden in there somewhere. Maybe something from his correspondence with the Grand Cleric and other officials of note would hold the key, or perhaps the knowledge would be in Greagoir's weekly logs. Either one could provide Uldred with the information he sought, or at the very least provide him with a vital clue toward solving this mystery.

Yes, that sounded like a solid lead. That would be the next step in his plan, then. It wouldn't be the first time he had ransacked Greagoir's office, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. All in all, it would be a very easy plan to enact.

However...

That idea could not be done right away, unfortunately. Uldred already knew that Greagoir's office had been broken into very recently, and the security around the aforementioned chambers would be heightened to a vicious degree. He would have to wait for a time for that to lessen, then, before getting the chance to snoop around in there. That knowledge displeased the Senior Enchanter, but in situations like this, he had learned to become a patient man. He had never grown to overcome his hatred of waiting, but it was something he could tolerate now, at least.

And besides, Mages of the Circle had plenty of time to waste around, if they had anything at all.

So...what was he to do now, with that plan settled?

Well...in the meantime, Uldred _could_ muse about potential theories, if nothing else. That wouldn't hurt, and it might lead him down the right trail, given time.

And so with that idea in mind, Uldred stewed in thought, pondering the conundrum before him.

"It can't be blackmail," the Senior Enchanter decided, musing aloud. "No, it can't be. Alistair is too young and...well, too _nice_ to blackmail anyone, least of all the Knight-Commander. Any sort of blackmail against the Knight-Commander could be related to Alistair, possibly, but...Greagoir is not one to be so easily cowed by such dubious measures, so that is unlikely. Hm...what else, then?"

He couldn't have a general fear of the boy, either, Uldred thought. That wouldn't make a lick of sense; after all, Alistair was a youth almost over fourteen years of age. There was nothing about Alistair to fear at all. If anything, his Apprentice was the exact _opposite_ of a fearful person.

Hm, so what was he left to speculate about? What other potential answers could lay in wait? What indeed...

…

Aha! Maybe, just maybe...

"He could be of noble blood," Uldred supposed, turning over the idea in his head.

Yes, that did make a great deal of sense, didn't it? Perhaps Alistair was the son of a local Bann, perhaps even the son of an Arl, and Greagoir knew of his parentage? That could be a possible answer. If that was true, than it was more likely than not that Alistair's nobleman father promised serious repercussions, if any harm were to come to the boy.

Yes...that theory made a _great_ deal of sense. It wouldn't surprise Uldred at all if that was the case. Of course the Knight-Commander would have every reason to fear Alistair. Even as a Mage, the scion of any nobleman carried a great deal of prestige and influence. Alistair himself might not be able to wield such power, of that there was no doubt...but his family would be able to do so in his place. Especially if they were well-connected nobles.

"That explanation makes the most amount of sense..." Uldred murmured to himself, liking the idea more and more as he thought it out.

"...But I could still be wrong. We shall see, I suppose." he added, keeping in mind that possibility, as well.

It was a theory that certainly made sense, of course, but it was entirely possible that he was dead wrong; perhaps there was another logical explanation behind Greagoir's fear of Alistair. Maybe he was the bastard child of some important Templar official? Unlikely, but still every bit as plausible as the Nobleman theory...

Well, Uldred would only know for sure once he had access to Greagoir's office.

Though...perhaps he could investigate matters for himself, while he waited? Hm, yes, that might work. The wait for getting into the Knight-Commander's office would be a long one, and starting his own investigation into the matter might just earn him some valuable pieces to the puzzle; and, more importantly, pass the time.

With that thought in mind, the Senior Enchanter finally brought his mind to peace. The mystery remained unsolved, but now he had a plan in mind to tackle the conundrum before him, as well as several theories to test, before all was said and done. The mystery would be cracked wide open, soon enough.

And so, Uldred finally went over to his inviting bed, and slipped into it, slipping into a well deserved slumber within minutes. And as he drifted off into the Fade, the Senior Enchanter last conscious thought was:

"_I wonder just what revelations I will soon come across, in this most entertaining and fascinating mystery..."_

* * *

The next morning came soon enough, and Uldred found himself meeting with his young Apprentice for yet another day of practicing Battlemagic. But, unlike previous lessons, Uldred took special care to covertly study and scrutinize Alistair; mostly, to see if he could gather any clues as to whether or not his most likely theory, that Alistair was of noble blood, was based in any reality.

At a glance, the boy certainly didn't carry himself like a member of the nobility; there was no sure swagger to his walk, no arrogance in his eyes, no sense of superiority over his 'inferiors'. That much was obvious, even to one who didn't know Alistair all that well.

But...spending almost five years in the Circle of Magi would beat such an identity out of anyone, no doubt. Especially in face of Templar tyranny. _And_ there was the fact that Alistair had been at a young age when he had been taken to the Tower, too. Perhaps that also suppressed such an identity in his Apprentice.

Hm.

...At any rate, he would find out if his theory was true, given time. A simple study of facial expressions and how one carried themselves wasn't enough to confirm or deny his theories. There was no realistic way he could solve this just by _looking_ at Alistair.

So then...what other options did he have to gather clues? Was there a way to ascertain if the boy had any knowledge as to why Greagoir feared him so, without resorting to outright questioning?

Briefly, it occurred to Uldred to make Alistair's mind more pliable with Blood Magic, and perhaps then he'd find his answers...and it would be all too easy to put into action, too...

In the end, though, the Senior Enchanter pushed that thought away with a disgusted shake of his head. How barbaric! Using Blood Magic on his own student? He'd never sink that low. Besides, using Blood Magic on a fellow Mage seemed absolutely...well, it seemed almost sacrilegious, in a way. A line he most definitely would not want to cross, if at all possible.

...And if he were being honest with himself, it would make the mystery _far_ too easy to solve. After all, there was fun to be had in a good mystery! Though his disgust at such an idea was his primary motivation of why he wouldn't do it, of course. He wasn't a _monster_, like those _savages_ in Tevinter.

So, what else was there to do? Perhaps he could just ask Alistair, after all? Some innocent questions here and there could provide him with some much needed clues. But, Alistair might get suspicious if he were to ask him about his life before the Tower...and while that suspicion would not amount to much, it was still something he didn't need. Oh, what to do, what to do...

"I can't ask him directly, then..." Uldred finally decided, keeping a keen eye on his Apprentice while the boy continued to practice.

Hm. With that avenue closed, then, what other roads could he follow that would take him to the source of this mystery? What—

And then, Uldred knew what he would do. He blinked, musing the idea over in his head...and slowly, a smile was etched across his face.

Oh yes...this idea would work _splendidly_. It was so obvious, the Senior Enchanter was surprised it hadn't occurred to him earlier. Yes...that would do. That would do _marvelously_.

With that thought firmly in mind, Uldred brought his full focus back onto teaching Alistair. His eyes fully registered the actions of his Apprentice, as he went through yet another demonstration of the Hand of Winter spell. The Senior Enchanter smiled wider, and while in his good mood, he spoke to his Apprentice.

"Good Alistair, very good! I think it's time we moved onto something more...challenging for you, now. Don't you agree? It might be early to start on this, but I think it's time that I at least teach you the very basic fundamentals of Elemental Chaos...now, just do me a favor and don't kill us both when you try to cast the spell. Okay?"

* * *

Hours later, Uldred was ready to take his first official step into delving further into the mystery that hounded him so.

His current plot into investigating deeper into this matter was thus: check the Circle's Archives. Such a simple idea, really, but one that might prove very promising indeed, if all went according to plan.

There, within the Archives of Kinloch Hold, every single piece of valuable information in the Ferelden Circle was recorded and stored. Anything and everything of importance was kept in there: from the amount of Lyrium the Circle received every month from the Chantry, to the number of all the Tranquil to have ever come out of Ferelden, to the detailed rosters of every single Templar and Priest that had ever served in the Tower. All of that, and much more, was housed in the Archives.

And it was within these chambers, that the records detailing the arrival of all the children and other Mages that had been brought into this Circle, was also stored. Those records contained brief biographical information on said arrivals; basic things, usually, such as the name, age, race, and gender of the arrival...and, of course, _where_ they had come from.

It was that type of information in particular that Uldred needed to know; for if he knew where in Ferelden Alistair had come from, it _just_ might give him some valuable knowledge and insight into the boy's origins...and, above all else, it also might lend further clues as to _what_, exactly, made Knight-Commander Greagoir afraid of his Apprentice.

Of course, one couldn't just stroll into the Archives, and ask to read any of the records it contained...especially amongst the Mage population in Kinloch Hold. No no no, it simply wasn't done!

The Chantry kept a tight grip on the information hidden within the Archives. It probably had to do something with the records of the Tranquil, more likely than not. The Chantry was...paranoid, to the extreme, about everything dealing with the Tranquil; especially records of where the Tranquil were transferred to, after they were dealt the Rite...

At any rate, only approved priests and Templars were allowed to purview the Archive's inventory. Unless given explicit approval by both the local Knight-Commander _and _the local Grand Cleric, which was highly unlikely to happen _at all_, the Mages weren't allowed to read _anything _in there, or even _be _in the Archives themselves; and sneaking in wasn't an option, either. No one would be able to even get through the front door, what with the duo of guarding Templars on either side of the entrance!

Thus, it was nearly impossible for any Mage, however crafty they were, to get even a glimpse into the mysterious and heavily-guarded archives of the Circle of Magi.

And yet...

And yet, here Uldred was: in the middle of the Archives, with the Chantry none the wiser.

Sometimes he _loved _being a Mage; well, more so than usual, at least.

Oddly enough, however, it wasn't Blood Magic that got Uldred into the Archives; no, it was a much _simpler_ form of Magic that granted Uldred access into these rooms...a much more delicate, and more powerful, Art of Magic valuable to anyone stuck within the confines of Kinloch Hold.

The Senior Enchanter scurried around, navigating his way through the series of rooms that made up the Archive in a very precise and very careful manner. He paused briefly, and sensed the approach of someone unknown. Uldred swiftly moved and hid behind a bookcase, as a giant pair of legs walked by, attached to an equally giant person...

...Or at least, that's what people in general appeared to be, when seen from the viewpoint of a helplessly small mouse.

Once that potential danger was out of the way, Uldred the Mouse continued his journey, and eventually came to a set of doors. Within them, he knew that the records of all the Circle's arrivals were kept, including the information about Alistair that might just prove to be the key to unlocking his Apprentice's secrets.

Uldred glanced around, and noticed nobody in sight. After checking once more, the Senior Enchanter morphed back into his true appearance, and swiftly entered the chambers in front of him. His eyes took in the sight of the nearly endless rows of shelves within the room, and of the obscene amount of bound parchment each shelf contained.

It was quite the intimidating sight, truth be told.

Given Kinloch Hold's long history, the record of its arrivals was vast and long, stretching back all the way to the re-purposing of Kinloch Hold as a Circle, back in the Tower Age. And the records themselves could have been organized in any which way, for all he knew. For any other man, it might have proved an insurmountable challenge; amongst the sheets of never-ending names, it might prove impossible to find the exact information he was looking for. But, for Senior Enchanter Uldred, the matter before him wasn't a challenge at all.

And that was because he cheated.

A heartbeat later, and the door opened, ushering in a new occupant for the room. A middle-aged priest walked in, though something seemed...odd, with her gait. And the clouded, glassy-eyed look in her pupils did not appear natural at all, as well.

Of course, such things tended to happen when someone was using Blood Magic on you.

Sister Prudence had been one of the main Archivists at Kinloch Hold for well over a decade now, and as such Uldred had seen fit to...influence her, when the situation called for it. This certainly wasn't the first time he had used Blood Magic to warp her mind; and nor would it be the last, if he had any say in the matter. Prudence was quite the useful pawn, especially in situations such as this.

Uldred thanked the Maker, or whatever deity actually existed in the world, for his prowess in this Forbidden Art; for if he were a Mage of lesser caliber, then Greagoir or Irving or some other fool soul would have discovered his actions long ago.

The subtle manipulations of the mind from a true master at Blood Magic was nearly impossible to detect, no matter what the Chantry claimed. As a matter of fact, Uldred prided himself on the knowledge that Sister Prudence had never even _suspected_ the fact that she'd been subjected to Blood Magic over the course of ten years; nor had anyone in the Tower at all, Templar, priest, and Mage alike, ever suspected anything of the sort. Such was his brilliance! Such was his power! Truly, there were few as masterful as Uldred in this Art.

However...

Loathe as he was to admit it, there _were_ limits to what even Blood Magic could accomplish.

It was a deep, deep shame that even Enthralling the Sister before him couldn't get him through the doors the regular way; unless he attempted to forge the signatures and seals of both the Grand Cleric and the Knight-Commander, or enthrall both the Templars on guard duty, there was no way Uldred could get through those doors. Sister Prudence simply didn't have the authority to bring him in with her.

It was a good thing, then, that the Art of Shapeshifting was a talent Uldred also possessed. Ah, such was the beauty and complexity of Magic...for if one of its Arts could not be used to find a solution in one way, then another of its Arts certainly could.

"Can I help you, Knight-Commander?" Prudence asked cheerfully, smiling at Uldred widely. This knocked the Senior Enchanter out of his musings, and he immediately returned his mind to the matter at hand.

Uldred returned the smile, though it contained no genuine warmth. With firm authority in his voice, he commanded, "Yes, my dear. I was hoping you could help me find a certain set of records. Specifically, the records detailing the arrival of a certain Mage. He arrived around 9:20 Dragon, I believe, along with a few other children, that year. Pull up that particular file, please."

Prudence gave a dim nod and did as he asked. Within a few minutes she navigated through the ordered chaos before them, and handed him the records he had asked for, detailing to him the particular pages that held the information he desired. Uldred smiled again, and started skimming through the names of all the children who had been brought to the Ferelden Circle in that particular year, eager to finally find a piece of this tantalizing puzzle...

He finally reached the end of the list of children for that year, and frowned when he still hadn't found Alistair's name. Uldred scowled and assumed he had somehow missed his Apprentice, and thus started to scan the list of names yet again. He continued his much more thorough search for several minutes—this time, noticing that Alistair's friend Emilia had apparently come from _Kirkwall_, of all places...there was a story behind that, Uldred knew, and he would investigate that when he had the time—but, to his distaste and growing concern, he _still_ did not find Alistair's name.

Growing more suspicious, and feeling a small amount of dread, Uldred thrice more looked over the names...and still, found no trace or sign of his Apprentice.

The Senior Enchanter took a calming breath, and looked over at the clueless Sister.

"There...appears to be an error in these records, Sister Prudence." Uldred began, handing her back the bound bundle of parchment. "I see no trace of the Mage I am looking for."

"Oh dear! You must be mistaken, Knight-Commander!" Prudence claimed with an astonished, and almost horrified, look. "We keep meticulous records here, Sir! There must be an explanation to this...tell me, what is the Mage's name?"

"Alistair." Uldred replied, after a moment of hesitation. Prudence relaxed upon hearing this, however, which further nettled the master Blood Mage...but, with the reaction of the priest, the pieces started clicking into place.

"Ah, I see what the problem is! There isn't a mistake in our records, I assure you, Knight-Commander. Don't you remember?" Prudence inquired, giving Uldred a puzzled stare. "We received orders from Her Grace to remove all mentions of Mage Alistair from our records almost two years ago. It was a very peculiar request, I admit, but it was carried out, nonetheless. Do you...not recall this?"

"Ah, yes, now I remember..." Uldred feigned recollection, but inwardly his sense of dread swelled to new heights, upon having his suspicions confirmed. "Sorry for the trouble, Sister. You may return to your duties."

"Very well. Good day, Knight-Commander." Prudence dipped her head in acknowledgment and exited the room, leaving the Senior Enchanter alone with his thoughts.

"This...does not bode well," Uldred murmured to himself, his voice carrying an almost fearful tone.

By the Void, what was going on here?!

* * *

…

…

…

Alistair's name had been removed from the Archives.

Alistair's name had been..._removed_ from the Archives.

_Alistair's name had been removed from the Archives!_

_Alistair's name had been __**removed**__—_

"Oh, Maker's Breath..." Uldred groaned as he leaned back in his chair, his hands uselessly massaging his temples as his headache grew and grew. "What am I going to do?"

It went without saying that this most recent development was...not good, in the least. In fact, one might even call this revelation a Complete And Total Disaster Oh Maker _By The Void Why Was His Apprentice's Name Removed From The Archives—_

…

Suffice to say, Senior Enchanter Uldred was not pleased by this new information. _At all._ Because something had gone terribly wrong, and he had no idea what was even going on anymore.

When the day had begun, Uldred had viewed this...conundrum before him, of why Knight-Commander Greagoir was fearful of Alistair, as a fun little mystery that might entertain him for a time, and perhaps even provide him with some useful information that could be used against Greagoir. When the day had begun, Uldred had viewed this mystery as a game, not to be taken too seriously, because why would it need to be? Whatever made Greagoir afraid of Alistair was largely inconsequential to the grand scheme of things, especially to The Long Plan, and while it was head-scratching that a grown man was afraid of a child, the answer behind that wouldn't really lead to any big game-changers, because the explanation was likely very simple, probably along the lines that Greagoir was being threatened by some noble or merchant or someone that if any harm came to their son Alistair, the Knight-Commander would face their wrath, and it was all as simple as that—

And then he had found out that Alistair's name had been removed from the Circle Archives. That changed everything. _Every. Thing._

Now this wasn't some sort of amusing side-tale that Uldred was curious to know more about; now this was a race to find out _what was GOING ON in this bloody Tower ANDRASTE'S SOGGY TITS HE WAS GOING TO __**KILL **__GREAGOIR IF EVEN A SINGLE HAIR ON ALISTAIR'S HEAD WAS HARMED—_

...Now, this was a mystery that had become serious and dangerous, and his Apprentice's life could very well hang in the balance.

Removing the name of any Mage in any Circle from their Archives...was never a good sign. Especially if that Mage was still alive, and unaware of the...drastic change of events that had occurred. Having ones name stricken from all records in the Circle usually meant that the Chantry, for one reason or another, did not want any record of you ever having been in a Circle. As a result, more often than not the unfortunate soul who had their names stricken...disappeared, never to be seen again.

…

Alistair's name had been _removed from the Archives—_

And so, taking that fact into account...whenever the Chantry wanted you to completely disappear from their records, to make it look like you had never even existed...whatever their intentions for you from that moment on, _they weren't good. At all. _

So Uldred had a good reason for having a near mental-breakdown: from all indications, it seemed that the Chantry was making it appear as if Alistair had never even been in the Ferelden Circle. As to why they were doing that, or why they hadn't fully made Alistair disappear...he honestly didn't know.

...This wasn't good. This was Bad. Very, Very Bad.

"Calm yourself, Uldred." he whispered harshly to himself, desperately trying to regain control over his emotions. "Now is _not _the time to have a panic-attack. I've...I've got to think. But to do that I must _regain control!" _

The Senior Enchanter took a few deep breaths, and marshaled together his will. With swift and furious speed, he suppressed his feelings, his fears, his worries...anything and everything that acted counter-intuitive toward him thinking clearly about this disturbing revelation. Now was _not _the time to panic; now, more than ever, he needed to be able to think objectively about this matter. He could not help Alistair at all if he continued to stay mentally paralyzed like this. He _had _to _think _about this.

Then, after a few minutes had passed, Uldred finally felt he was fully in control over his emotions, once again. The Senior Enchanter sighed with relief, and started to focus. With no more distractions in his way, it was imperative that he formulate his next move, for what he did next could decide just how this mystery ended...

It was time to cut out the middleman; that much was clear. This was no longer a mystery he could solve at his leisure. He had to get answers _now_, and that was that.

It was clear, then, what he had to do...

It was time to pay Knight-Commander Greagoir a personal visit.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Uldred continued on as if everything was normal. He attended his afternoon lesson with Alistair, and spent another few hours teaching the boy, before sending him away for the day. After that, the Senior Enchanter stuck to his regular routine: reading in the library during his off hours, chatting with some of his fellow colleagues whenever he had the chance, anything and everything he could do to pass the time.

Then, the night soon dawned, and Kinloch Hold began to settle down for the day. The enforced curfew came, and most inhabitants of the Circle began the process of going to sleep and getting some rest. A few unlucky Templars given night patrol remained up and about, but other than that, the Tower soon fell into deep silence, as a good majority of its residents retired for the day.

All except for Uldred, Senior Enchanter and Master Blood Mage. While others slept into the night, he put his plan into action.

It took very little skill to sneak into the section of the Tower that housed the Templar Quarters; in his mouse-form, Uldred remained invisible and undetected in the dead of night. A few close encounters were had, now and again, with the cats that stalked the Circle...but those situations were resolved easily enough, and Uldred soon found himself reaching his destination.

With little fanfare, he picked the lock that kept the entrance into the Knight-Commander's personal quarters closed, and he then swiftly slipped into the room. Greagoir, now clothed in attire fit for sleep, was still up, writing away at his desk. So it surprised the Senior Enchanter little when Greagoir turned, upon hearing his door open, causing the older Templar to spot him.

"Uldred! What—!" the Templar began to say with increased alarm, but a simple sleeping spell cast Greagoir into a deep slumber, stilling his words in an instant.

Uldred gave a grim smile at his newly-made captive, and set about preparing for the events to come. He cast several spells upon the door and walls, blocking all sound from leaving the room, among other things. He relocked the door for the sake of security...and, just in case, quickly moved a cabinet in front of the door anyway. He doubted the need for such a measure...but if things went horribly wrong, it would at least buy him some time.

The Blood Mage then set about securing his prisoner. Using the sheets of Greagoir's bed, he bound the Knight-Commander's ankles and wrists to the posts of the bed. Then, for good measure, he cast a paralysis hex upon Greagoir, which would keep him still for as long as he needed.

With his captive secure, Uldred drew out a large and sharpened knife, ready for the last step of his plan...but he paused, considering just what he was about to do.

"Using Blood Magic on the Knight-Commander is a definite game-changer...I am going to upset the balance of power here in the Circle in a way I cannot predict...everything will change..." he murmured to himself, finally considering the consequences of his actions here. Things would never be the same again, no matter what he found out tonight. What he did next could very well damn his little cult of Blood Mages...

"I will take the consequences, come what may. I _must _find out what he knows about Alistair..." Uldred vowed, his conviction firm.

He knew that this was A Very Bad Idea, but there was no other path he could take. It was increasingly possible that, whatever was going on around Alistair, Greagoir had no incriminating evidence of it in his office, or even in his personal chambers. Be it letters exchanged with the Grand Cleric, or with some threatening Arl or Bann...such letters of secrecy and importance would likely already be ashes by now. And even if such information was stilled contained somewhere in Greagoir's office...it might not shed light on the full picture. What Uldred needed to find out...he needed to know from the Source itself. There would be _no_ substitutions.

So, with that thought firmly in mind, Uldred raised up his captive's forearm and lashed out with his dagger, drawing out a long but shallow cut across the palm of Greagoir's right hand.

The sudden searing pain jarred Greagoir back into consciousness, but Uldred heeded him no mind. He withdrew a vial from within his robes, and held it up to the leaking wound, collecting the blood as it spilled across the palm.

"I...should have known! You were always too...helpful, too...knowledgeable in the matters of Blood Magic..." Greagoir seethed, glaring with intense hatred at his captor. Uldred ignored him, and continued his task. The Blood Mage drew his dagger again, and slid it across Greagoir's hand once more, making the wound deeper and drawing more blood.

The Knight-Commander hissed in pain, and then called out at once, bellowing, _"Templars! To arms! There is a Blood Mage in my chambers!"_

Silence met Greagoir's demand.

"No one can hear you scream, Greagoir. I have made sure of that." Uldred idly commented, as his vial filled all the more with his foe's blood. Greagoir scowled at the Senior Enchanter, and tried to struggle in his bonds, only to discover he could not move.

"I've also taken measures to make sure you cannot move during this process." Uldred helpfully informed, giving a dark chuckle. Finally, when he had collected enough blood, he withdrew it from Greagoir's still bleeding hand, and put a cork on the top of the vial, sealing it. Then, as an afterthought, Uldred waved his hand and cast a healing spell, the skin of Greagoir's palm stitching itself back together in no time.

This halted the Knight-Commander's fierce and heated staring, as he blinked in shock. "Why...why did you—"

"There will be no evidence you were harmed tonight." Uldred replied simply. He held up the vial in his hands, making it glow brightly in the darkened room. Greagoir's eyes lit up in horror, and he continued his futile struggle against the paralysis hex—

"**You will obey." **Uldred intoned, the Art of the Blood coursing through his magical core; and with those spoken words, he slammed down all his power as a Blood Mage onto Greagoir's psyche.

Greagoir screamed in agony, his suffering the likes of which few had experienced since the fall of the Tevinter Empire.

Blood Magic was a subtle and ingenuous art, when applied correctly. With the right amount of blood from the target of your choice, you could manipulate their mind in ways that they could not even perceive. A touch there, a whisper here; with enough time and energy, for example, you could spend months planting the seeds of doubt and envy within in a powerful nobleman...and when those seeds took root and bloomed, that nobleman could be used to turn against his liege-lord and start a civil war, at your convenience.

However...there were instances when one didn't have the time for such subtle manipulations, or the patience for months of small nudges to the mind. That was when Blood Magic became not an art of subtlety, but an art of brute force. When one didn't have the time or patience for months of accumulative mind shifting, that was when Blood Magic could be used for immediate results. With enough power and forceful might, you could make someone do your bidding at once, with little to no wait. However, that came at a cost; once the spell had worn off, the victim was left in a permanently damaged psychological state that couldn't be recovered from, and from that moment on their usefulness would be worn out, more or less. All that would be left of any victim of such vicious Blood Magic would be a broken shell, a puppet with its strings cut out...an empty void, where a Man had once been.

So, unless you were willing to sacrifice a perfectly good pawn for a few hours or days of immediate action, most Blood Mage manipulators tended to take the more slow and steady route of mind manipulation. Especially if their intended to control their targets for the long term.

And for the most part, Uldred was that sort of Blood Mage. In this instance however...he had no choice but to resort to a most distasteful application of his Art. But, it would be worth it, in the end. At last, he would have answers.

"**You will obey." **Uldred declared once more, making Greagoir scream even louder. At this point a normal man would have broken, and submitted to his power, but Greagoir was made of sterner stuff...and, there was also the fact that Templars were trained to resist Blood Magic.

But no amount of training would save the Knight-Commander now.

"**You will obey." **Uldred commanded for a third and final time. Greagoir screamed one last time, and his defenses crumbled; his eyes glazed over, and his shouting ceased at once. The blood within the vial shined brightly for a mere moment, symbolizing Greagoir's submission to Uldred's will.

"Good..." Uldred smiled, pleased at his success. He held the vial aloft, and spoke once more to his Thrall.

"**You will answer me any question I ask. Understood? Good. Now, why was Alistair's name removed from the Archives?"**

"The Grand Cleric ordered it." Greagoir answered, in an eerily calm voice. His clouded eyes focused on nowhere in particular.

"**I see. Do you know why the Grand Cleric ordered it so?" **Uldred inquired.

"No." his Thrall responded.

The Senior Enchanter paused at this. Of course, it made sense. Whatever the Chantry had planned for Alistair, they might not entrust all the details to a lowly Knight-Commander...

"**Why did you display fear earlier, when one of your own was accusing Alistair of theft?" **Uldred asked, deciding to ask a query that might get a more knowledgeable response.

"The Arl of Redcliffe has promised severe repercussions if Alistair were to be harmed, while at the Circle. The Grand Cleric promised much the same. For reasons beyond my comprehension, it is imperative that nothing bad befalls Alistair. The thought that one of my own was seeking to accuse Alistair for theft, the punishment of which being a good and thorough flogging, which had the potential to kill a boy his age...made me fearful, if just for a few moments." the Knight-Commander said, giving a much more lengthy answer, this time around.

At this new piece of information, Uldred paused. This...he hadn't expected...

The Arl of Redcliffe taking an interest in Alistair was certainly interesting, and alluded to Alistair's origins. But the Grand Cleric did not wish to see his Apprentice harmed? That was...quite the paradox, truth be told. The priests of the Chantry cared nothing for the Mages...so why did the Grand Cleric care if something happened to Alistair? And for that matter, she had authorized the cleansing of Alistair from the Archives. This seemed...counter-intuitive to that goal.

What was going on here? What plans did the Chantry have for Alistair?

"**Interesting. Tell me, why is the Arl of Redcliffe taking such an interest in Alistair? Is he the child of this Arl?" **he further inquired.

"No. According to the Arl, Alistair is the bastard son of King Maric." Greagoir calmly replied.

…

…

Uldred blinked. He...he _must_ have misheard that...

"**Repeat that again." **the Blood Mage ordered, unable to believe his ears.

Greagoir's answer did not change, for he said once more, "According to the Arl, Alistair is the bastard son of King Maric."

Silence once again descended into the room, as Uldred stood still as a statue, completely shocked by the unbelievable words intoned by the Knight-Commander.

"He is the son of Maric..." Uldred whispered to himself, his mind reeling at the possibilities.

Alistair was the son of King Maric, the Savior of Ferelden? Unbelievable! Uldred himself had no real loyalties to his home country, but still! The fact that Alistair was of royal blood was completely unexpected. The son of a Arl or Bann had been a possibility, of course, but to think that Alistair's noble blood went up far higher than that...!

This...it had been Ages since the scion of any royalty was made into a Circle Mage. More often than not, any magical talent displayed by those of royal blood was either kept secret, leading to the royal in question being privately trained...or, much more realistically, that royal was slain to prevent a scandal from the fallout of such an event. After all, not many Kings would want it known that their bloodline had been 'tainted' by the curse of Magic...

Bastard or not, the fact that Alistair was still alive was a great surprise—

...And suddenly, Alistair's name being purged from the Archives made a terrible amount of sense. The King, using the Arl of Redcliffe as a proxy, no doubt sought to remove all traces of having a Mage son, even from the very Circle he inhabited. It was a paradox that Maric had allowed such a problem to live on, but perhaps he couldn't bring himself to kill his own son? It was possible...

Wait. No...the King didn't bribe Greagoir to remove Alistair's name from the Archives...the Knight-Commander had clearly stated the Grand Cleric had made such an order. Hm. Had the King made an appeal to the Grand Cleric to do this for him, then? That...was possible, if a bit risky to let the Chantry know it had such leverage over him...and there _was_ the fact that Ferelden wasn't the biggest fan of the Chantry, after it allied with Orlais during the Occupation...

Bah! Enough theories, enough guesses! This was a time for answers, _not_ more guessing games, he chided himself. There would be time for thought later. What was important was getting every last drop of information he could from Greagoir.

Banishing his musings for the moment, Uldred raised his voice and asked, **"You say that the Grand Cleric ordered Alistair's name to be removed from the Archives. Do you know what plans the Chantry has for him, then? If anything at all?" **

Greagoir shook his head. "I do not know of any plans relating to the boy. If Her Grace has any, she did not entrust such knowledge to me."

Uldred scowled at this. **"I see. It was too much to hope that you'd be in the loop...tell me then, did the Grand Cleric give any other orders regarding Alistair?"**

"Yes," Greagoir confirmed with a nod. "Her Grace gave me an additional command, one that I must follow no matter what: the moment I receive word from Denerim that King Maric is dead, or if I receive specific orders before then, I am to take the boy in for the Rite of Tranquility."

"...What," Uldred spoke softly, feeling as if the world around him had broken apart.

The Senior Enchanter stumbled backwards in shock, blinking rapidly as his mind struggled to catch up with this disturbing revelation. And in his horror, his grasp on the blood-filled vial slipped; within seconds, it made contact with the floor, and shattered.

This jarred Uldred back into reality, but by then, it was too late. His power over Greagoir faded, and the spell was broken. Greagoir shuddered for a moment, and closed his eyes as the drain on his psyche forced him into sleep.

"No! NO!" Uldred dived to the floor and attempted to cast his power back into the now useless blood, but it was futile. He scrambled back to his feet, his hands trembling, as he shot the now unconscious Knight-Commander with pure hatred.

"Damn it!" he cursed, slamming a fist onto the bed.

Whatever information Greagoir had still held was gone, now; the spell had been broken due to his own _foolish _carelessness, and Greagoir was a wreck. It was possible there was still something to salvage in his mind...but trying again so soon might end up rendering the Knight-Commander brain-dead, and there was no way he could simply leave and bide his time until he could try again. The damage done to Greagoir's mind was irreversible...and more importantly, in his current state, all of Greagoir's subordinates would be able to easily tell that Blood Magic had been used upon him. Not to mention the fact that Greagoir might still be able to recall the fact that he had used said Blood Magic upon him...

Even if it was unintentional, Greagoir's usefulness had vanished with the smashed vial on the blood. He was a liability now...and thus, needed to be...removed.

Still cursing himself over the dropped vial, Uldred reached into his robes and brought out an elixir he had hoped to use much later. Glaring one last time at Greagoir's comatose body, the Senior Enchanter approached him. He opened his captive's mouth, and poured the concoction down the Knight-Commander's throat, stopping only when Greagoir had drunk it all.

After a mere minute, Greagoir shuddered one final time...and died, as his heart gave out on him.

Poisons were such lovely things, especially when they mimicked a natural death. By all appearances, it would seem as if Greagoir had simply died of a heart attack in the middle of the night; a death that would be questioned by few, especially since the poison he had used wasn't one common to Ferelden or Orlais.

Uldred took the man's pulse, just to confirm his death, and nodded in satisfaction when he felt none. Quickly, he set about covering up his tracks. A brief use of intense and powerful flame reduced the glass shards to ash, destroyed the cork, and vaporized the cooling blood; Uldred then moved around a rug in the Knight-Commander's room to cover the remaining soot. He then gave Greagoir's body a once-over, checking to see if there was any sign of foul play. Once that was complete, he lifted the paralysis hex from Greagoir's body, and untied his limbs from the bedposts. He then proceeded to arrange the Knight-Commander's body in a way so that it seemed he had died peacefully in his sleep. After that was all completed, he moved the cabinet away from the door, back to its original location, thus leaving him free to go at his leisure.

Once he was done, Senior Enchanter Uldred stared one last time at the corpse of Knight-Commander Greagoir, thinking upon all he had learned tonight in the dead silence. When his thoughts were at last over, he left.

* * *

The next morning, the Revered Mother of Kinloch Hold announced over breakfast that Knight-Commander Greagoir had 'tragically' passed away during the night, and declared that this day was now one of mourning; and thus, all the lessons and activities the Mages usually did throughout the day, were canceled.

Very few Mages displayed any actual grief over Greagoir's death; only some Loyalists and the First Enchanter himself—and, looking at how heartbroken Irving was, it made Uldred wonder if just for a moment, that the rumors about him and Greagoir being illicit lovers were true—had shown any signs of sorrow. The rest of the Mages of the Circle were either indifferent to Greagoir's passing, or secretly ecstatic, such as many of Uldred's Libertarian brethren.

Outside of the Mages, the only ones who truly seemed to mourn Greagoir were his Templar subordinates, and the priests. That surprised Uldred little, all things considered. He only hoped that no foolhardy Mage, like a certain perennial escape artist, made any disparaging remarks about the Knight-Commander; such talk might get overheard by a Templar, and end up sparking a fight or something worse.

Seeing as he had no lessons with Alistair for that day, Uldred mainly confined himself to his room, deep in thought, as he turned over the events of the previous night in his head.

The Senior Enchanter still cursed himself for letting that vial slip from his grasp; there was no telling how much more information Greagoir had contained, how much vital intelligence he had lost in his shock. Still, what was done was done, and he had no choice but to continue on with what he did know, now. Even if it hadn't been everything, he had learned a great deal from his brief interrogation of the Knight-Commander.

"So...Alistair is the son of King Maric. No, the bastard son, there is a difference...presumably he is unacknowledged as well, especially since he is a Mage now...so what does the Chantry want with him?" Uldred murmured to himself, trying to puzzle this latest bombshell.

At the very least, the Arl of Redcliffe believed, or maybe wanted people to believe, that Alistair was the bastard child of Maric...it would explain why an Arl would take an interest in anyone in the Tower, especially a lowly Apprentice like Alistair. But what, then, did the Chantry want with the boy? At the end of the day, the Chantry would care little for any Mage child of royal blood, especially an unacknowledged bastard. Or at the very least, any Mage child of royal blood from a 'barbaric' and 'minor' country like Ferelden.

Besides, the Chantry...to say it focused solely on spiritual matters was a complete and utter lie, of course, it was as interested in the secular as the spiritual...but it did not invest itself too highly in matters of royalty and noble blood. Well, if that person of noble blood wasn't a heathen, at least. Otherwise, the threat of an Exalted March was enough to make anyone, even the most stoutly agnostic King or Queen, to pay homage to the Chantry. True, they did like it when any ruler of any nation was a devout Andrastian, but how much someone was Faithful mattered little in the long run, so long as the Chantry received tithe and loyalty from the monarchs of Thedas.

There was also the fact that Alistair was a Mage, which permanently disbarred him from ever holding any noble title. His Apprentice could never be King, even if Maric and his other son Cailan ended up dying without leaving any other additional heirs. The Chantry would be able to get little out of Alistair in that regard.

Perhaps they threatened to reveal Alistair's existence to the world at large, if Maric didn't comply more with Chantry doctrine...? Hm, perhaps. But the Chantry already had a complicated relationship with the newly reborn Kingdom of Ferelden, given its cooperation with the Orlesian Occupation. Blackmailing King Maric, a god-like figure to a good many Fereldens, would not endear them well with the nation. Besides, the hit that Maric might take wouldn't last long, given the fact that Alistair wasn't born from the womb of Rowan. Some might view Alistair's talent at Magic as a 'punishment' from the Maker himself, in order to teach the King some sort of lesson about infidelity. And there was ample evidence that Prince Cailan wasn't a Mage himself, which would indicate that any threat of Magic 'tainting' the bloodline would stay with Alistair only. Maric's supporters might also claim that the Chantry had made up the existence of this Alistair, in order to humiliate their King.

Orlais, potentially, might benefit from a blow to King Maric's stature—

…

And suddenly, it all made sense.

The Chantry might not have as much of a use for Alistair...but the Orlesian Empire was another matter entirely.

Orlais and the Chantry were intertwined together. They both shared Val Royeaux as their capital, and many of the top Chantry officials were of Orlesian origin. Sometimes it was hard to even separate the interests of Divine Beatrix III from the interests of Empress Celene I. So while the Chantry might not have much of a long-term use for Alistair, _Orlais, _on the other hand...

Mage or not, Orlais would stand to benefit greatly from acquiring the bastard son of King Maric.

Yes, that made a _great _deal of sense, especially since the Chantry wanted to make Alistair Tranquil as soon as his father died. Add to that the fact that the Chantry was going to the trouble of having Alistair's name removed from the Archives...and it seemed like someone wanted it to appear as if the spawn of Maric had never been in the Circle at all.

What they wanted the boy for, Uldred couldn't entirely discern. It could be a number of many things...

Perhaps they intended to cause a succession crisis in Ferelden by having both Maric and Cailan die at some point; then they would use their allies in the Landsmeet to conveniently introduce the bastard son of Maric, now a Tranquil willing to obey whatever orders he received from his Orlesian handlers. There were a great many laws against a Mage holding titles, true, but the same could not be said of the _Tranquil_...who, technically speaking, were Mages no longer.

Or maybe they intended to use Alistair for breeding purposes. Have him produce a number of illegitimate spawn to use at later dates. The line of the Theirins was already fragile and weak, with Maric and Cailan as the only remaining recognized direct descendents of Calenhad. At any point they wished, Orlais could send any number of Alistair's theoretical children into Ferelden to 'reclaim their birthright', or some such rubbish, sparking a number of civil wars and infighting that would severely weaken Ferelden.

It could be either of those ideas, or any combination thereof...or perhaps the Senior Enchanter was wrong altogether. Whatever Empress Celene had in store for Alistair, however, mattered not. It was clear that her plans would not be good for the boy. Not at all.

So then, Uldred had to make a choice.

Now that he had an inkling of what was going on with his Apprentice, Senior Enchanter Uldred could do one of two things: ignore these revelations, and carry on as before...or fight against Alistair's chosen fate.

Weighing the options, Uldred knew there was only one thing to do. Alistair was a fellow Mage, and even more importantly, his Apprentice. The boy trusted him deeply, and Uldred had no intention of betraying that trust. He would do _everything _in his power to save his dear Apprentice from whatever ill fate Orlais and the Chantry had planned for him.

He would need to get started right away, then. He would need to make contact with his friends in the Mages' Collective, and have them send inquiries to the Grey Wardens. Short of going on the run and becoming an Apostate, Alistair's best chance at survival now would be to join the Order of the Grey. While they were small and weak in Ferelden, the organization as a whole was powerful, and neither the Chantry nor Orlais would dare mess with Alistair once he was in their protective custody.

When he had spoken with the Warden-Commander the last time he came to Kinloch Hold, Duncan had seemed to be a genial and understanding man. No doubt he could be made to see reason, in regards to recruiting his Apprentice. And if not...well then, he could always task his brethren in the Collective to collect Duncan's blood, instead.

This would all take time to arrange, but if there was one thing Uldred had, it was time itself. Maric was still a young man, and likely wouldn't die anytime soon, unless assassinated by Orlais...which was a distinct possibility. After all, there were whispers that Orlais had been behind the wasting death of Queen Rowan.

Either way, though, he'd have to take that risk; if he was lucky, Maric would kindly refrain from passing on until he had set up everything with the Grey Wardens.

Senior Enchanter Uldred pushed himself from his desk, and stood up, briefly stretching his limbs. He had work to do, now, and there was no time like the present.

No matter what happened in the near future...he _would _save Alistair. That boy deserved a much better fate than being reduced to being the mindless pawn of the Orlesian Empire. And if Uldred had any say in the matter, Alistair _would _get a better fate. After all, even if it came with great risks, becoming a Grey Warden offered any Mage the one thing they hungered for, but never received from the Chantry:

Freedom.

"Worry not, dear Alistair," Uldred murmured with a grim smile. "No matter what happens, I _will _save you. Even if I have to kill the Empress of Orlais _and _the Divine all by myself...I _will_ save you."

* * *

_Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you enjoyed this Wham Episode of Alistair the Mage! This chapter brought to you by the phrase, "Holy Sh!t what just happened?!"_

_Hooray for the longest chapter ever so far in this fanfic! Hip-hip Hooray! :D_

_Oh, and since I forgot to mention it in the last chapter, I'd like to go ahead and thank Musicalrain for giving me my 100__th__ review! I highly appreciate it, MR. _

_Now, before anyone points out the fact that Celene had plans to make Cailan divorce Anora and marry her...I know that. Uldred, however, does not. And even if he did, having Alistair handy would help the Empress with any number of back-up plans, were things with Cailan to go south...like, say, if he dies during a Blight or something._

_Also, you may wonder why, since Uldred is a Shape-shifter in this fanfic, why he hasn't escaped the Tower by now. Or maybe you're wondering who taught him, as the Circle Mages don't learn anything like that. In answer to those questions...that's another story for another time, I'm afraid. ;)_

_And now for something completely different: a brief tangent on Elves in DA..._

_Can anyone explain to me why male Elves are incapable of growing facial hair? No, seriously. I mean, you can't give any of the Elf Origins in DA facial hair if they're male, and as far as I remember, you never actually see an Elf with a mustache or a beard. So why is that? I mean, it's just plain weird to me, and I also find it annoying, since I happen to think that beards, or facial hair in general, make people more cool and distinguished. _

_I mean, Gandalf has a badass beard, Obi-Wan has a beard, Long Feng has a nice mustache and goatee combo..._

_So why is it that male Elves are incapable of growing facial hair in DA? Is that a thing in fantasy in general, come to think? Since I don't recall many Elves that actually do have facial hair, in various works of fantasy. So if that's a thing...then why _is _it a thing? It makes no bloody sense to me, honestly. And it seems rather stupid, too. _

_I know, it's a really minor issue to have, but it's just one that bugs the hell out of me. And don't deny that Zevran wouldn't look _totally awesome_ with a beard or a goatee of some sort._

_Anyway, that's it for now. Hope you all enjoyed this installment of Alistair the Mage! Please don't forget to review!  
_


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